Mirrors and Broken Things
by goldnox
Summary: She's different now, and struggling to understand who she sees when she looks in the mirror. He's trying to re-find his place in her life, but his reflection is alone. What will it take to bring them together? / A walk through of episode 4x02 Memorial, through my eyes and theirs. Canon for the scenes in the episode, non canon for what happened when the camera stopped. Delena.
1. Mirror, Mirror

**A/N: Hello my darlings! How I've missed you! **

**This fic was written by request for _Trogdor19_, who was in need of a new Memorial fiction while she kills us all with deathly cliffhangers, wrapping up the masterpiece that is _Desperate Love_. If you haven't read it, please go read it, follow it, and check out her other work too while you're at it. **

**We're starting with Elena POV, and this fic will be a mixture of canon and non-canon events taking us through the episode. Some parts we saw, some we didn't (hehehe). POV will shift btwn Damon and Elena, and I'm going to try to really take advantage of the rating level (when I can). For the purpose of this story, the whole episode takes place over one really long day, and we're going to kick off pre-episode btwn 4x01 and 4x02. This will only be the first chapter, many more to come! Thanks for reading!**

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**ELENA POV**

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**Mirror, Mirror**

This is completely, utterly, insane.

I'm beyond exhausted but there's no way I could sleep right now even if I wanted to. I don't have a say in the matter, surprise surprise.

Stefan sent me straight home to pack after we cleaned up everything that went down at Pastor Young's cattle ranch and he took Matt home after burying the bodies. Our idea of a typical date night. I was given two hours to clean up, calm down, and get ready, along with my marching orders to return back to the boarding house for the rest of my internment (transition).

Stefan said he wants to take me hunting in the woods so I can learn to feed on animals, which is not exactly how I wanted to spend my first night as a creature of the undead. If I was having my way, which I'm not, I'd be halfway through an hour-long shower and about to get into bed to snuggle with my down comforter and some blood. Well, a lot of blood.

Other than a few measly drops from the dead guard at the farm, I haven't fed and I'm so hungry I swear I can feel the insides of my stomach scraping together. I honestly don't know how I'm standing when all this emptiness is rattling around inside of me. Thank God Jeremy isn't here because I'm not sure how safe I am right now.

I'm trying to pack and I'm moving around my room too quickly; twice I've knocked off the picture frame that sits on the edge of my vanity. I'm not trying to blur around my room but I can't seem to slow anything down. It's all moving too fast one minute, then everything just stops short and life comes to a rapid halt when I think of something else.

Hurry up and stop, that's my life right now. Speedily tumble over a bridge and drown in the water, jailed by a polyester seatbelt that's supposed to keep me safe. Right. Fall in love, fast and overwhelming and consuming, then shut it down and walk away repeatedly. Waiting all day to feed to turn, pushing time, waiting a little longer, testing it, then rushing to drink in the last few seconds before it's too late.

Life in a series of jolts. I just need it to be a smooth ride for the next five minutes before I completely lose it and start freaking out. I bet I could give carnival-terrorizing, post-werewolf-bite Rose a run for her money if anyone so much as _looks_ at me like they want to ask me _how I feel._

I glance at my suitcase. I've only managed to successfully pack one pair of jeans and some socks. I roll my eyes at myself. I'm obviously handling this task brilliantly. At least I managed to shower without forgetting to wash my hair.

_I did condition though, right? I can't even remember._

At the sight of the dark wash denim my focus immediately shifts back to Damon. That's why I can't pack. It's his fault. I can't seem to stop thinking about him. I haven't even spoken to him since I told him I remembered him compelling me and that was a few hours ago. It's normally not that big of a deal _not_ to talk to him, but this is different.

He must be going crazy.

When Stefan dropped me off he told me that Damon was fighting Alaric when I died so he knew the instant that it happened. In one second his best friend was cheerfully trying to beat him to death then stopped because the girl he loved, the one that didn't choose him, had died.

He lost two of the most important people in his life in the same moment and there was nothing for him to do but to hold his dying friend while my life drifted away from me. I was beyond his reach and where he couldn't see me or save me from whatever it was that was taking me from him. There was nothing he could do, it was already done.

In all my life I'll never know what that did to him.

I'm actually amazed that after the last day's events filled with both me and Ric dying, Stefan and I getting kidnapped, closely followed by my Hail-Mary transition that there's a single human left alive in Mystic Falls at this point. If Damon was really half the monster he wants everyone to think he is then by my count he should be on his fifth sorority girl and drowning in bourbon and blood.

Then again, he could be and I'd never know. In truth, I wouldn't blame him. It's been a rough couple of days, even by our standards.

I freeze.

What the hell is happening to me?

I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed, leaning my head onto my hands with my elbows on my knees. I can't believe I'm condoning possible murder on Damon's behalf. I never would have done that before. Would I?

Before.

I'm a vampire now.

I shiver.

I don't hear him when he lands inside my room; I never do. But I can feel his stare and I can smell him on the air that pushed into me when it made room for him.

I'm not going to look at him. I can't deal with this right now. I thought he was going to die, he asked me to make a choice and I made one. He has a right to be upset but now is a dangerous time to provoke me and that's his default when it comes to dealing with me and my unruly emotions. He's always pushing my damn buttons and they just love to rise up to meet him, like he knows exactly where they are and how to conjure them. It's always provoke or explode, so he shoves.

He hasn't moved. He's still just standing there, looking at me. I don't know what he's seeing, who he is seeing. I don't want to know.

"Damon…" I warn him.

This brings him back to life. Awareness ripples through him, reminding him that he's supposed to be a man and a monster and to _not_ act like he's actually dumbstruck looking at me. I can see it out of the minute space awarded to me as I peek through my fingers and it's all over him in the way he's rolling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest just the littlest bit. He's trying so hard to act like he didn't just let it show that he has feelings.

Give me a fucking break. The man takes bubble baths after he murders people.

And he can give Stefan shit all day long about his hair gel but I've been in Damon's closet and I've seen his bathroom and I know that I can't even read the labels on his loofahs, let alone his clothes. I know what kind of man he is, who he is.

Two long steps and he's in front of me.

"Not now," he says bluntly as he kneels down.

He's wearing my favorite jacket because I think he knows I like this one best. He's been wearing it constantly ever since I crashed on the couch of the boarding house one night and he caught me hugging it while Stefan was out hunting and I thought he was asleep. I should have known he'd never let that slide after he busted me.

The smell of the leather is mixing with the dark spice of his cologne and its contradicting with the fruits of his shampoo and body wash with just a hint of the wood polish he favors reaching through. He smells so good, I just want to sit here and drink it in for hours in absolute silence. That's all I need, just quiet and this smell.

The over stimulation of my senses is going to make trying to resist him so much harder, I can already tell. That's why I can't look at him. I can't take the eyes.

He's not giving me a choice. I never get a choice.

He peels my hands back from my face and drapes them around his neck. I hadn't noticed until now but they're shaking. He ducks his head until my eyes catch his. I knew I was right to avoid them. It's so easy to just suspend knowledge, reality, morality, when he looks at me like this.

I let myself really look at him and just like that, it's done. He's thoroughly captured me and I know that whatever it is he wants, I'll give it to him. I'm so screwed.

"How do you feel?" he asks me seriously, no trace of a smirk to be found.

If his hands weren't holding mine to his neck I might slap him. Somebody please tell me he's joking.

I make a face that immediately sends him reeling into clarification.

"Do you _hurt,_ Elena? Is your skin aching, head throbbing? Are you nauseous?"

His hands are cupping my face and he's looking me over like he should be able to see these things physically on me.

"Is your mouth sore?" he adds quietly like it hurts him to ask. He brushes his hand over my cheek and I don't want to tell him the truth.

I don't say anything. I just sit there shaking, staring at him in wonder with my hands against his skin. I think a tear escapes my eye.

"Elena, tell me…"

"Yes," I whisper. "All of it."

He releases a heavy sigh and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes pinched closed.

"You need to feed," he tells me like I don't know this. "But we'll come back to that."

What? What else is there? That's all this _is_, all I am now. I know the truth, I've seen it.

He sits back on his heels, drilling me with that look again. Crap.

"Have you looked?" he asks quietly for my sake.

I don't know why but I'm mortified. Of course Damon would think about this. He already knows the answer too, otherwise he wouldn't have asked.

I hang my head and let my hair fall forward to cover my guilt. I don't know what he's making of me not being able to look at my vampire face in the mirror. He's probably taking it as a rejection of who and what he is. I wince.

Part of me realizes what I'm doing by refusing to look, knowing that I'm causing him pain. But I also know that he's choosing to suffer through my struggle because more than anything he needs to make sure I'm okay. He needs to know that I can try to handle this without shame or guilt, the two things he won't allow me to feel.

He understands how scary it will be for me to look in the mirror and see someone else staring back. What if I don't like her? And I don't consider myself particularly vain but what if I think I'm ugly like this?

Damon gets that and won't let me run from it. I'd rather not have to do this at all, or at least have the privacy to cry alone when I realize I hate who I've become, but if I have to do this with someone I'm glad it's with Damon. He won't let me feel bad. He probably doesn't think there will be a reason to tell me anything but the truth anyways. I just don't know what the truth is anymore.

And I do want to look, to see myself take shape as someone that can protect herself and her family and not just play the hapless victim. I'm just scared that I won't see the strength that comes with this but only the unfurling of my mind and humanity.

"So, don't you think it's about time?" he says mockingly while standing, taking my hands and pulling me up with him. "Come on, Elena. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he smirks, turning me to face the mirror.

He stands behind me so I can see his face reflected back to me over my shoulder, his right hand lightly squeezing the skin that plays keeper between my collarbone and my throat while his thumb twirls the hair at the base of my neck. He's warning me not to try to run. He's promising that I don't need to.

His left hand is clasped around mine, hanging down by my side and dangling below my hip. I can't see it thanks to the height of the mirror but I'm overwhelmed with the sensation of his fingers sliding through mine as he watches me, locking us together.

I'm having trouble breathing and I want to call bullshit on that because I'm supposed to be dead. This isn't supposed to still be happening.

"Watch me, Elena," he purrs at me and I do as instructed. As if I had a choice.

He lets the veins take his eyes, pulsing out and throbbing and painting just the tips of his cheekbones. His blue eyes are now black, the hunter revealed and unflinching. He parts his lips and I gasp a little when I see his fangs grow and lengthen all the way down. Those sharp and pristine weapons have brought incalculable pain and pleasure to so many before me, more than I want to think about. They've been in my skin and I know them. They look like old friends with a complicated history.

I'm suddenly aware that instead of the human fear that should be surging through me at such a brazen display of his lethality my vampire mind is only repeating a single thought over and over.

I want to taste one.

The few times we've kissed he was always wearing his human face. I rarely see him fully displayed like this and he's exotically beautiful. I don't know why he ever hides and I understand why he doesn't like to. It makes me want to show him who I am, to reveal myself and see if I'm just as striking as he is.

Everything about him is shouting danger and passion and sex and I can't help myself when I shift my hips so I can rub against him, to feel that he's real. I can sense every thread of my jeans as they massage against his, the friction causing a small growl to roll out of his throat while he presses his thumb harder into my neck.

"Your turn, Elena," he smiles at me. That smile drips knowledge of endless orgasms and all the ways he wants to give them to me.

I need to focus, damn it, and he's making it impossible.

I take a breath and try to clear my scrambled mind; it's echoing with the sounds we could be making right now instead of the strained breaths, gasps, and low growls we're reining ourselves into. I should be screaming his name and he should be cursing mine but we're not and I have to try to find my bloodlust. It's not hard when he's so near.

I close my eyes and think of blood: warm, rich, flowing. I can already feel them on my face, starting out under my eyelashes. It feels like I'm crying but I'm not. They're moving to and from my eyes like tears flowing under my skin instead of over. They don't hurt but they almost tickle.

My fangs start to drop and I scream, my free hand flying up to cover my mouth as I hunch over in agony while they mercilessly pierce my gums.

Damon has me.

His arms are locked around me, holding my back to his chest. He's trying to keep me upright as I bow under the pain. He's whispering things in my ear but I'm not sure what he's saying. Whatever it is, it's not working and the torment is infinite, it's unyielding, it's unbearable. It'll last forever no matter what he says to try to make it stop.

My fangs finally finish cutting me as they reach their maximum size. I still, the pain ceasing with their lack of movement.

"That'll get easier," he tells me gently. "Soon, you won't even feel it," he tries to assure me as he pulls me back upright, though he leaves his hands on my shoulders.

"Now, look."

I do as he commands and open my eyes.

"Beautiful," he huffs out incredulously as if he can't help it. Like he's relieved, but surprised that he is. He's shaking his head and laughing to himself, looking at me like he's almost angry at me for being nervous because I somehow made him nervous too.

I want to pay attention to him but I'm mostly studying the vampire in the mirror. She's fierce but uncertain. The way her eyes are roaming for prey, sizing up her target and knowing she's better, reminds me of Katherine and I hiss at her.

Damon just chuckles while he continues to rub little circles on my back, pretending that he's doing it absent-mindedly. But there is nothing inattentive about the way he's handling me right now.

"Katherine?" he confirms with a smile.

I nod.

"Tell me about it," he rolls his eyes. "Look again," he says sounding slightly exasperated. I do. "Did Jeremy ever break his arm learning to ride his bike?"

"What?" I ask, utterly thrown by his question.

He cocks his head, lifting a frustrated eyebrow at me while refusing to cave and still waiting for my answer. Damon hates repeating himself, almost more than he hates martyrs.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug, then remember. "Actually, he broke his arm diving at the Lake House but he sucked at learning to ride a bike. He's actually surprisingly uncoordinated," I say, letting myself drift into memories.

"Oh, I believe it," he says casually like we're just having idle chit-chat and not staring at each other's fangs in the mirror. "I've seen him try to swing a baseball bat, remember?"

I smile and blush in memory of our trip to Denver and that glorious wall outside our motel room.

"See, there you are," he whispers to me, tucking my hair behind my ear so I have a clear view of my face. "Red cheeks and all," he smirks.

He's right. I still have black veins around my eyes but I can barely feel them. And the fangs are there but my face is more embarrassment and nostalgia than monster. I look like me, but as a vampire.

He waits for me to find myself in my reflection before he speaks again.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of. She's not so scary…"

He lets his eyes clear and his teeth blunt so I do too. It feels odd but it's easier when I think about Jeremy. It's harder when I think about Denver. It's almost unmanageable if I pay attention to his hands. They're so big the tips of his fingertips are still plucking at my collar bone while his thumbs dip deeper under my shoulder blades and into my back. It feels like I'm absorbing him it's so natural.

Why is he touching me so much?

I guess he always has but my skin is exploding in awareness. He moves a hand to my hip and I know he sees the heat flare around my eyes because the barest hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. This is so unfair. As if it wasn't bad enough that he could hear my heartbeat thundering away as a human now he can see my badly hidden reactions to him written all over my face. Fantastic. I frown and look down, humiliated again.

He grips me harder so I'll look back at him, his fingers curling around my side more roughly than he should but still not enough. He's only teasing me with what we both know: that any moment he'll push me too far and I'll give in. I'll let him take me, claim and possess me every way I know he wants to. As a human I barely resisted. As an hours-old vampire I'm too raw to even try to put up a fight.

"Elena," he says sincerely and I try to pay attention to the words that are coming from between his perfect lips. This must be important, it always is when he says my name in that voice. "It makes no difference to me. Human, vampire, you are_ Elena_ and that is all that matters, all that I care about. Do you understand me?" he asks sternly like I'm a child being scolded.

I nod my head. He loves me no matter what I am or who I kill, though others may not. He needs me to know this so I have someone left when they all run away from me.

"Good. And do not expect me to apologize. Not for the compulsion, for wishing Matt had died instead of you, or for the part of me that's happy that it's done and that you are a vampire now. I'm _not_ sorry."

His non-apology means more to me than any "sorry" I've ever heard because I know he actually means it. I'm not shocked he's not remorseful, I'd be more confused if he was because now he won't have to worry about me dying anymore. At least until someone tries to stake me or I lose my daylight ring.

Crap, I don't have a ring. I'm so not ready for any of this.

"I understand," I mumble and he turns away releasing me.

I don't even think before I reach for his hand to stop him. His back is to me now and I can't see his eyes. That makes this easier.

"Damon…"

I want to thank him for making sure that I'm safe even when he hates me and I need to apologize for being part of the reason he's hurting. I want to yell at him for showing up here when he's not supposed to do this anymore, to scream that it wasn't his responsibility to save me and it's not his fault that I died. I want to hit him for making me want him here and I'm longing to kiss him for loving me more than I deserve to be loved, especially by him.

I don't know what I want. There's too much to sort through to even begin trying to understand the slightest degree of all that he makes me feel.

He doesn't move, so I do.

I step around and throw myself up at him with all the force I can find. He rocks back on his heels, unaccustomed to my new strength. I don't wait to let him steady us. I just keep stretching up on my toes, wrapping all of my arms around his neck while I press us together as close as I can.

He hesitates only a second before he concedes, circling his arms around my waist and lifting me the rest of the way off the floor so I'm suspended by his strength alone. His face is in my neck and I can tell he's taking deep gulps of air, faster than I want him to need to. His chest is slamming against the top of my stomach with every inhale and it hurts to know that he has to breathe me so deeply. And I hate that I always have to tell him that he can't have me to keep. This is all we get, all I can allow us.

He's gripping me so fiercely that if I were still human he'd be hurting me but I'm not and I don't care. Even if I was I'd take the bruises happily and readily conjure up some dumb excuse on command. In the last 24 hours I've been kidnapped and I've been killed and I know he's impatient to hold me, to feel me against him. He needs to re-find the certainty that I'm alive and that I'm safe.

I need it too.

Alaric could have killed him. He should have died when Klaus was staked. He should have died so many times before. He shouldn't still be here for me to cling to. And I've seen him hurt so often but that doesn't make it any easier. Especially not when I'm the reason and we both know it.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to him and he squeezes me tighter. He thinks he knows why I'm saying it. He thinks it's for Ric and for not choosing him. He thinks it's because I don't love him. He's so wrong.

He sets me back down to the floor and I wind my arms under his so I can grip his back under his jacket. It is so unfair that he feels this good. He feels like comfort and safety and home. He's not supposed to feel like this, but he does.

I feel him place a light kiss to my hair and the faint trickle of his breath as it reaches my scalp.

"I love you," he tells me so quietly that as a human I would have never heard it.

This enrages me. How many times has he done that, told me this, without hoping to receive anything in return because he never gave me the chance? How dare he place that perfect recipe for resentment on my shoulders without my knowledge. There's passive-aggressive, but Damon is passive-affectionate. It's so underhanded, to both of us.

"So," he says light and chipper and making me hate him even more. "Let's talk about where my delusional baby brother is and why you're not off feeding with him. That," he says and points to my suitcase, "and wherever it is we're going that has such a lenient wardrobe policy."

"Oh," I say biting my lip and crossing my arms against his reaction. He's going to be pissed. "I told Stefan I needed to pack. He wants to go camp in the woods, while I…adjust."

Damon looks murderous.

"No."

"Damon…" I wheedle. He's never going to go for this and this is only going to end with him angry and drunk and hitting Stefan. Round one, here we go. "You have to let me try this. Please…"

"No," he tells me again, leaning into my face and gesturing heatedly. "What you _need_ to do is _for once_ save yourself the trouble and just _listen to me_. You're going to end up doing it my way in the end and you know it, so just skip the bullshit and hours spent picking fur out of your teeth and just drink from the damn vein."

"No. I have to try this first, Damon. I can't hurt anyone," I explain feebly.

He doesn't understand. I knew he wouldn't but I wish he did.

"Denial is not control," he growls at me. My head hangs and I stare at his feet. He does it all the time but I still hate it when he yells at me. I just don't have the energy to wage my own war back at him right now.

"You want to be a ripper?" I flinch. He's going to win and he knows it. "Then take a ripper's advice. I kill, Elena, but only when I choose to and never because I can't control my fucking bloodlust."

Oh, this sucks. I don't want him to make sense. I need this to work for so many reasons.

"You want to be able to choose when and who you kill? Then stay away from the damn animals," he snaps and strides towards the window.

He's gone before I can even say his name.

I arrive at the boarding house an hour later, finally packed and far from calm and right on schedule for round three. Two has already been going on without me. I knew that it would the moment he left.

I'm not even out of my car and I can already hear them arguing. Damon just told Stefan they need to knock me off track so they can fix me faster and Stefan replied that I'll be fine, that I can handle it without being broken first. Although it's a little contradictory when two seconds before he was saying any minute I could crumble under the pain and shut off my humanity. I wonder what he really believes.

I'm climbing the stairs and I can tell they've squared off thanks to the shuffling of feet and fabric, but I haven't heard the familiar sounds of knuckles and teeth and broken skin so they haven't started swinging yet.

Damon must have heard me come in, he always does. But Stefan won't, that's the beauty of animal blood. So Damon knows what I heard Stefan say and he knows that I know where they both stand.

So I get to make a choice. In front of them. Between them. Hooray.

To be or not to be? To feel or not to feel? Humans or animals or blood bags or everything or nothing?

Green? Blue?

I suddenly realize that I have an eternity of this in front of me and I've never felt this tired.

Awesome.

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**A/N: So, _how do you feel_? (lol) **

_***Side note, I don't think Elena normally curses this much, but she kinda earned it, so I let it roll.**_

**Please read and review guys, always love to hear your thoughts. And please follow, updates to come hopefully soon! Happy Reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	2. Broken Things

**A/N: Hello my sweets! Unbelievable response to first chapter, can't thank you guys enough! Truly phenomenal. Here we have Damon POV, post feeding-method fight with Stefan at the boarding house and pre-drinking at the Grill, and I hope you enjoy!**

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**DAMON POV**

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**Broken Things**

My brother is such a fucking moron.

I wish I had another blowtorch or a flamethrower. Ric took his back. Party pooper. I think I have a chainsaw in the garage but that could be messy. I could settle for throwing my glass of bourbon in the fire to break something. Again. But I shouldn't. I've already destroyed four glasses and a lamp and I don't feel like replacing anything else.

I settle into my favorite chair and take a sip from my spared glass. God, it burns so good. I'm such a damn masochist.

Maybe I should just stop fixing all the broken things she leaves in her wake. Then she'd have a front row seat to how completely she's fucking wrecking me.

I sigh and take another sip. Even if I hadn't already cleaned all that shit up I would have anyways. She's already dealing with enough right now, she doesn't need to come back to a demolished house. She'll know I broke it because of her.

I'm supposed to be dealing with this. I should be able to handle her choosing him. But how the hell am I supposed to accept her decision when she still acts like she hasn't made one?

I shouldn't have gone to her room last night. I need to stop doing that shit. But I didn't really have a choice.

I left that stupid ranch as fast as I could once I was done getting guilt slammed by Elena for compelling her and went straight to the nearest bar. I drank my fill of everything and everyone I wanted and I even managed to keep them all alive. Kudos to Damon.

I wish Stefan and Elena were here so I could throw that shit right in their judgmental faces. Everyone loves to bleat about how "out of control" I am.

Bullshit.

I have more control than all of them put together, they just can't handle the idea that anybody could choose to act the way I do. Well, I do, and they can all go fuck themselves if they don't like it.

And what do I find when I finally get back to the house?

A baby vampire buried in human remains while Stefan fights her for the last drop?

Nope.

Noises from my brother's bedroom that I pray are coming off channels you have to pay too much for and aren't even worth it?

Nuh-uh.

Stefan, alone.

I'm still shaking I'm so furious.

I could hear him from the driveway, humming to himself and moving around the house. All I could think was "Why the hell wasn't he with Elena, and instead acting like his girlfriend _didn't_ just get kidnapped under his watch and turned into a blood sucking immortal?"

I knew I needed to find her, to stop her before she drained the whole damn county dry because baby brother can't grasp the concept of how to take care of a newbie vampire. But I had to do one thing first.

I walked straight into the house, stopped by my room, then stormed into Stefan's. He was hunched over his desk, pouring his black heart on to paper because it couldn't tell him how screwed up he was. It couldn't call him a liar and a manipulator. It just took whatever version of the truth he chose to sell and always believed him.

I knew what he was doing and he was a bigger idiot than I thought if he really believed I'd let him get away with this. He'd have to stake me first and he's not fast enough.

So I punched him in the face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, and where's Elena?"

I'd normally make some snarky quip to find out what I want, but I was not in the mood and I didn't have time. I just needed answers, faster than he was giving them to me.

"Elena's fine, not that I'm sure you even care."

That was his first mistake. Two blinks and my hands were on his throat with his back against the wall.

"You want to try that again?" I growled past my fangs. He didn't even flinch. I need to find some new moves for him. Dodgy little fucker.

"She chose me, Damon."

He said it gently, like he felt sorry for me. Mistake number two. Dipshit keeps getting dumber and dumber.

"Then where the fuck is she, Stefan? She's hours old and you let her loose?"

"She's fine! She's at her damn house and she'll be here in an hour. You're the one who left as soon as she transitioned."

I almost said, "Because she chose you," but those words would taste all shades of gross coming out of my mouth. I didn't say it.

"I swear to you, brother, if you fuck up like this again don't think for a second I won't rip your damn heart out and make that choice pointless."

"You'd never do it," the asshole grinned at me. "You can't kill me. She'd never forgive you."

Stupid, stupid, Stefan. Mistake number three.

I raised my eyebrows just enough to accuse him of all the things he's done to hurt her, all the things she shouldn't have forgiven him for, but did. I watched joyfully as the fear crept into his eyes; it almost made it all worth it.

"Want to bet?" I leered at him.

He doesn't. He didn't. He knows what I know. There's enough of a possibility that I could kill him and that she would forgive me. Eventually. We have eternity. I'm not willing to take the risk that she wouldn't but he doesn't need to know that. He didn't know that.

I slammed his head into the wall for good measure and I released him to think that over. I prayed to any deity that may exist that the idea keeps him up at night. I need it to.

"So, where's the ring?" I asked casually, sitting down and propping my feet up on his desk while flipping through his journal; like I didn't just threaten to kill him to win her.

"What?" he choked out, rubbing his throat. Fucking baby.

"The ring, Stefan. You're not going to keep her locked in the basement and she may want to go outside at some point."

I didn't even have to look to know it was all over his face. Moron forgot. I should have known. I _did_ know. I should have killed him right then if this was how he was going to "love" her.

I shook my head at him, frowning in disappointment.

"I'll take care of it," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it, brother," I snapped, slamming the ring box I pulled from my pocket down on his desk while standing so I could tower over him.

I turned away and studied his book collection so he could look at it without me watching, though it didn't stop me from hearing his pulse accelerate as he took it in. I know what he saw. Custom designed, flawless diamonds highlighting the Lapis Lazuli stone that'll protect her, wrapped in a platinum band. It's modest, it's delicate and it's stunning. It's Elena and it's perfect.

I know, because I made sure it was.

"How long have you had this?" he asked me quietly. I didn't answer. He didn't deserve a response. "Damon, I appreciate it but you know I'm not going to give her this."

"Sure you're not," I said as condescendingly as possible.

I heard him as soon as he launched but I didn't move until he was right behind me. In a move I've perfected thanks to our constant brawls I turned at the last moment, grabbing and throwing him with every ounce of his own momentum into the wall. He hit high and slid low and my boot was crushing his windpipe before he even opened his eyes.

I waited until he looked at me with all the hate in his body before I spoke.

"You want to win the girl? Then grow the fuck up, be a man, and give her the damn ring. I mean it, Stefan, before I no longer allow you to keep her."

"She's not yours. She chose me," he sputtered. "And she was mine first."

"She wasn't," I told him, letting my eyes widen with my smile so he could see the truth in my words. I relished every precious moment of horror and confusion that over took his loathing. "Ask her," I threatened before I kicked his side, shattering his ribs.

I left him on the floor, moaning and wailing over his deserved discomfort and his burst bubble of first claim.

I changed my clothes and my jacket before I left. I didn't want her to smell the blood on me. It would piss her off and she didn't need the extra temptation, not when she was already most likely starving.

I needed her to be as calm and in-control as possible when I saw her.

The tension between us was already wearing her down even before her emotions and senses went haywire. I knew it would be only too easy in the circumstances to let us just give in to all our shared wants and let us devour each other on the spot. But I couldn't let us. I couldn't take advantage of her like that.

She made her choice and I'm trying to respect it.

But I'm not a fucking saint.

I went over there to make sure she wasn't killing people. I went there because I knew she was in pain. I didn't go there to kiss her, or sleep with her, or even give her shit about not choosing me. I just needed to see her and try to help get her through this while forgetting about the rest of the bullshit that's been going on between us.

For once, I just wanted to do right by her and make sure she was alright.

I still can't believe that asshole left her alone. He fucking knows how much it hurts at first. That's why we turn our emotions off.

I had to consider that she may have already flipped the switch by the time I got there. I didn't think she would, but she might have.

I had to make sure.

I shouldn't have gone in her room. I knew she was in there before I was even close to her window and I didn't hear anybody dying. Should have left right then.

I could have just sat on her roof to prevent her from sneaking off to grab a late night jogger before she went back to the boarding house.

Did I do that?

Nope.

Do I have any sense of self-preservation at all?

Apparently not, because as soon as I heard her collapse on her bed in a huff I was running towards her tree and crossing over her window.

She was hurting in all the ways a human and a vampire can hurt and I'm in love with her.

I used to think this would all be easier if she wasn't human. That the pull of her blood would fade and I'd be able to let her go without the extra enticement between us.

Wrong.

She smelled even better than she normally does; more concentrated, more potent, more rich. I don't know how the hell that happened but it did.

There's so much that I didn't expect. I consider myself a masterful and brilliant planner and it's so humiliating to keep getting played by fate.

I fucking hate destiny.

I knew it was probably only a matter of time before she transitioned and I thought I would be ready for it. Hell, I figured I'd probably even be the one to do it in the end. I've come close enough before. But it doesn't mean that I necessarily wanted this for her, or that her turning didn't scare the shit out of me.

I didn't want to tell her and I hope she didn't notice, but I was fucking terrified of seeing her full vampire. I'd only caught a glimpse of her when she shoved me off Matt. She had pulled back off me in a blur as soon as she had me pinned to the ground and I didn't see her after that for a full three minutes. Of which, I was freaking the fuck out. And when she came back to confront me about the compulsion, her face was clear.

I was holding her hand last night for my sake as much as hers, but I doubt she knows that. I was convinced that when I saw her unveiled before me that I would only see Katherine in the mirror.

Wrong again.

It was only Elena in front of me, strong but still unsure. And she's never been sexier than with razor-sharp teeth and black veins dancing across her face.

I didn't see Katherine, but she did. When she hissed at her reflection I thought for sure her next move would be to turn around and slap me. It's not my fault that seeing her all cute and feisty makes my dick like a rock and I know she had to feel it digging into the top of her exquisite ass. But she didn't hit me, she just let me keep feeling her.

0 for 3 and I've never been so happy to have been wrong.

I've never been more miserable.

She chose him and I'm supposed to be letting her go. I should be leaving Mystic Falls. I shouldn't be spending my nights in her bedroom in the dangerous hours when the lines between reality and fantasy become blurred, pushing us both to the edge of self-restraint.

I should be able to resist her. But she makes it impossible when I can smell her dripping with want while she rubs her ass against me.

I mean, what the fuck was that?

Yeah, I was provoking her. Yes, I touched her first. Couldn't help it, never can. If that's all I can get you better believe I'm going to take it. And I do that shit all the time anyways.

I wasn't going to let her cave. I would have stopped her. I think. But I had to know for my own morbid curiosity just how little it would take for her to show how much she really wants me.

Nothing at all, that's what it took.

I saw the way her eyes went hazy when I uncovered my fangs. She could barely breathe. Problem is, I couldn't either once I saw hers.

I almost took her when I put my hand on her hip and onyx desire flashed around her eyes. She is going to have to get that shit under control, and quick, or she's going to get herself in a whole lot of trouble. I had to squeeze her that much tighter just to keep my hand in place and not let it slip down the front of her jeans where I know she wanted me to touch her.

I bet she tastes incredible. I bet I could make her come just by breathing on her alone. I need to try that once and hopefully it'll be in front of my fuck-head of a brother when I do. I should have tried it last night in her room. The next time I see her she'll be nice and fully clothed and I'm going to get her to scream, just to see if I can do it without laying a finger on her.

Shouldn't take much provocation, she gets so wonderfully wound up whenever I push her buttons. I wouldn't need to touch her. I could just whisper against the spot on her neck right behind her ear that makes her nipples hard, blowing down her shirt so my breath touches the space between her breasts, and I'd have her coming apart before I even _tried_ to unfasten her bra.

I know what she sounds like. I heard her once when she was alone and didn't realize I was outside her house playing Guardian Devil. It's not like I was trying to overhear her but Stefan was bat-shit crazy and Klaus was threatening to steal her and I wasn't about to go buy headphones. Probably could have stolen Jeremy's, but fuck that.

Sue me, I listened. And I can't wait to show her the sounds she could be making. Girl has no idea.

I groan and re-adjust my pants. I should have just slept with her and been done with it, then I wouldn't be having this problem. But I didn't. Because I'm a pussy.

I shake my head at myself.

Fucking feelings.

I hate so much that Andie was right. Loving Elena changed me. There's proof in the fact that instead of ripping her clothes off when she was licking her lips and looking at mine, I tried to leave. I should get a medal for that. But then she has to go and fling herself at me, hugging me like I'm a dead man walking and she's never going to see me again. She's never held me that hard before and it _hurt_.

It felt like she needed me. Like she loved me.

Then she said she was sorry and I can't believe I actually started to cry right there in her room. At least she couldn't see and I don't think she knows. I really hope she doesn't.

I should be used to this by now, this is what she does. She reels me in, builds my hope up, then cuts me down. If there were leagues of this crap she'd rule them all.

"_I can't hurt anyone,"_ her voice keeps repeating in my head.

Liar.

She has no problem hurting me. And yeah, we were technically talking about feeding, but that's not what she was talking about. She was talking about him. She can't hurt Stefan.

She thinks she can't be with him if she doesn't keep his diet. Admittedly, it would be a little more than complicated for her to try grabbing a snack or a meal around him. She'd probably be fending him off from ripping out their throats while she tried to drink. And if she's able to learn control on human blood, something he's never been able to do, it just makes him weaker in both their eyes.

He'll hate himself more and he'll resent her for being better than him. And I know he'd rather continue living under the delusion that he's making her do this so she won't kill, which she will anyways. That girl has a temper that makes me glad to be alive just so I can see it ignite.

What's worse is she knows _all of this_.

She knows that he's using her to make himself feel better, because if Elena can _only_ manage to control herself while on animals how could anyone ever expect saintly Stefan to do any different? It must be impossible if Elena can't do it.

Give me a fucking break.

She knows there's another way, a better way, the _right_ way. Look at Caroline. Hell, look at Lexi. Even she drank from blood bags.

But, no. She's going to be a martyr for my brother's cracked psyche and knowingly let him ruin her.

I can't believe I'm still sitting here. Why the fuck haven't I gone to get her yet? They can't be far, they didn't drive.

My stomach rolls. I can't stand the idea of her with dirt under her peach-painted fingernails, pressing her mouth to those filthy, disease-ridden things. I'm humiliated for her. She should be drinking from royalty while lounging in a five star suite, surrounded by fabric so soft you almost can't even feel it.

This is bullshit. I'm going. I'm going to pull her out of there, clean her up, spoil her and treat her like the Queen of the Damned that she is. _Not _the rabid beast he's making her act like. And I don't know what makes him think killing a bunny is not going to traumatize her just as much as murdering a human.

It has a heartbeat and you feel it when it stops. You know you are the reason it stopped. You know you are why its little baby bunnies are going to wait up scared and hungry because Mommy or Daddy didn't come home. The babies will eventually starve and die. You realize that you just murdered a whole family of bunnies so you wouldn't have to cause a human being five minutes of slight discomfort they won't even remember.

Has he fucking met her?

She's probably freaking out and crying. I'd bet anything he tells her it's normal and it's fine. Well, it's _not_ fucking normal and it's _not_ fucking fine. She deserves so much better than that. Feeding should make you feel fantastic and I'm sure she's never felt worse.

I shouldn't have let him take her. I should have stopped them.

I shake my head at myself. How did I let this happen?

I get up and refill my glass before sitting back down.

Oh, that's right. Because I had to listen to them while they were on the roof and all blissful and couple-y. I had to listen while he gave her my damn ring and place it on her finger. I could have left but I stayed because I wanted to know what he'd tell her. He didn't say a word about where he got it.

I'm glad he didn't.

I'm fucking pissed.

He told her Bonnie spelled it yesterday. He's so stupid it amazes me. Elena is going to say something to Bonnie about thanking her for doing it, and Bonnie's going to spill the beans about where that ring came from and exactly how long ago she spelled it and who she gave it back to. Even though I explicitly, and far from subtly, told her not to.

My vision blurs in fury.

She has no idea that the son of a bitch forgot. She thinks he's taking care of her. She thinks he's putting her first. She's probably worshipping the cursed ground he walks on and letting him touch her with his selfish and ungrateful little hands. She's probably letting him kiss her with that unclean mouth that's killed more than it's smiled. She's probably letting him make love to her, and he shouldn't be allowed within twenty miles of her.

My glass shatters in my hand. That's why I haven't gone to get her. She made her choice.

Fuck this. I'm not sitting around, waiting for them to come stumbling in while reeking of dirt and blood and sex.

I get up and go to my room. I don't need to change my clothes but I do anyways. I should be asleep. I need to sleep. But my bed feels empty and there's no valid reason for that. She doesn't have a right to make me feel this way when she's exactly where she wants to be: off fucking my brother.

I'll go to the Grill and get drunk. No danger there. It's early enough that it won't be busy and it's late enough that people won't think twice about watching me blow through the town's liquor supply.

The sun's up, so even Ric should-

Nope.

Ric's dead, I remind myself.

I'm alone.

I look in the mirror to check my collar is straight and that I'm not crying, because I fucking should be.

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**A/N: Well, what did ya think? Thanks so much for reading, please review and click that little button to follow 'cause I have A LOT planned for these two in the chapters ahead. Happy reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	3. The Gift

**A/N: OMG you guys! CRAY amazing response to last chapter! You blow me away! Internet hugs and high fives to all the guest reviewers I can't reply to personally, y'all rock. **

**Continuing with Damon POV, picking up pretty much right where we left off with Damon now at the Grill where he talks to Liz about the council. **

**M for a reason my sweets. Enjoy!**

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**DAMON POV**

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**The Gift**

Blah, blah, blah. I'm a murderer.

Yeah, I got that memo, Liz. It's what's printed under my name next to job title description on the cover sheets of my damn TPS reports. Thanks for the pep talk and the self-esteem boost. Go fuck yourself.

I glance at the untouched drink to my left. Ric would've thought that shit was hilarious, not that I said it out loud to her. Should've.

He loved that stupid movie and made me watch it with him more than once when we were wasted and trying to see who could die of alcohol poisoning first. I promised I'd kill him before he _actually_ died so the ring would kick in and bring him back. I was barely conscious myself by the time I snapped his neck.

The things we do for friends.

Hmph.

I'd forgotten about that night until now, so I was wrong. It was three times, not two. It figures my best friend would need some sort of death-Magic-Eraser.

Three damn times.

Twice because I was mad enough to think I hated him. Once because I loved him enough that I wouldn't let him go. And the one time I didn't kill him was the one time I should have. The one time he really needed me to.

I should have let him stake me for Isobel. That would've been fair. He'd probably be sitting right where I am but with history papers in front of him instead of an almost empty bottle, and _without _staring at an empty chair.

I'm glad I never wrote down a list like Stefan did. I don't want to see the names. I know who they are and that's more than enough.

I pour myself another drink and try to distract myself. I wonder who that guy was that Liz left with. Independent contractor my ass. All I know is Mr. Suspicious better stay the fuck out of my way or he's quickly going to become intimately acquainted with the unpleasant sensation of my boot up his ass. He had better be an IT Specialist or a Logistics Coordinator looking to score some municipal contract. Those things are gold.

Knowing my luck, Tito's probably some millennium-old wizard who could turn me into purple goop just by wiggling his nose at me.

Bring it on, fuck face.

It's time to kick this shit into high gear and get hammered if this is how this day is going to go. Apparently my bartender and I are telepathically linked because I just heard him crack the seal on another bottle for me. On to number four.

I love the service here. They've never cut me off and they always should. The staff lets you pluck bottles out of their hands like they were sharing bubble gum, and I had a blast with the red-head that helped dream up and serve me my breakfast-of-champions after I tried, and failed, to stake Klaus with the white-oak Toothpick of Terror.

It's probably because they all know I'm paying their fucking salary.

The last time they closed out my tab I couldn't stop laughing at my bank statement. I don't have to pay it, I could just compel my way through their stock. But some things are worth paying for and top shelf bourbon on demand at eleven A.M. is one of them.

They should probably just rename the place Salvatore's. I think I've poured more money into this dump than the owner and all their other customers combined. There's no way all the new track lighting, mahogany pool tables, re-finished flooring and the brand new kitchen Jeremy won't shut up about was paid for by burnt burgers and soggy fries.

You're welcome.

Fuck it. Elena likes it here and they keep me with a full drink in my hand so I don't strangle my brother. I'm not complaining.

Damn it, I am _not_ supposed to be thinking about her. I'm supposed to be figuring out where I'm going to go. I was going to pin a map to the dart board and decide that way but I'm not quite grouchy enough to eat the Abercrombie-tools that have been hogging it all morning. I'll probably just end up back in Moscow.

I fucking love Russians. They're snappy, always looking for a fight and they know how to drink. I can drown in vodka just as easily as I can bourbon. And I love the language. It's sharp and direct and so much fun to curse in. Your tongue slices against your teeth and your throat just instinctively knows that it's supposed to growl around your vowels. It's so slick and thick and primitive. It's a man's language.

Huge upside: Stefan has no idea that I've lived there. She'd never find me. Not that she'd probably even look.

Fuck 'em.

Goodbye Mystic Falls, hello private banya*.

Shit.

The front door of the Grill just opened and it's like somebody just dumped me in a tub of Orange Sapphire body cream, courtesy of our local Bath and Bodyworks.

What is she doing here?

I should have known better than to call Stefan about the council going ka-boom. But that's not why I called. I didn't hear her crying in the background. Maybe I was wrong.

I concentrate on figuring out what she's trying to cover up with all that damn lotion. Smart girl.

Trees and dirt and grass and wind.

Blood.

Bile?

Salt.

She's been crying. And sweating.

No sex.

Fuck, this is bad. Why did I have to be right? I haven't even looked at her and I already know she looks strung out as all hell.

"Did you do it?" she asks me like she knows I did. She almost sounds impressed. Huh.

"That seat's taken," I inform her. If she's not even going to bother with a quick and simple "Hey" then I'm not going to either.

Screw it. In three hours I can be on a plane and spend the next fifty years trying to un-memorize this smell.

She glances down at the seat like I'm as crazy as I act.

"But, there's no one here…"

"Well, I'm just going to _pretend _like there's someone there, because the alternative is just too damn depressing."

I smirk at her to drive it home.

I love her but sometimes she's so damn self-centered it's amazing. It's probably Stefan rubbing off on her. She knows better than anyone how close Ric and I were and she should have known that drink was for him.

She went completely insane the night that she thought Bonnie died while trying to kill Alaric-Klaus at the Decade Dance from hell. How would she feel if the witch-bitch actually _did_ die and the next day I not only acted like her best friend had never existed, but accused her of quasi-mass murder in a public place?

I may be a dick but I still have feelings. I didn't want to but she made me. This is her damn fault.

She's walking around behind me and I should have just kept my stupid mouth shut and let her sit there while she "interrogates" me. I don't need her scent swirling around me anymore than it already is. I'm suffocating in it.

I can tell her clothes are clean but her skin is not. She must have gotten blood on them. But then why does she look like she's starving? She's glistening with sweat and she's every shade of unhealthy pastiness I've ever seen.

What the fuck have they been doing?

I can't wait to introduce little brother to a sledge-hammer.

"Did you set off the explosion that killed the town council?"

"Am I wearing my 'I blew up the council' t-shirt? Why does everybody keep asking me that?"

Seriously. This shit is getting old, fast.

"Did you?"

"No." I drag it out so she believes me. She does. Good.

Not that it really matters since tomorrow I won't have to look into her perpetually disappointed eyes, but I'd rather not have her thinking I just turned twelve people she's known her whole life into bacon bits.

"Anything else?" I taunt her, because I can't help it.

She's taking a deep breath.

Fuck.

I roll my eyes and take a sip, waiting for the apocalypse.

_Come on, Elena, name it. What'll it be? My soul on a platter so you can slice and dice it with shitty Ginsu knives before you set it on fire because it makes pretty colors? Voila! Damon Salvatore, a la flambé!_

Not happening. Girl can Bon Appetit on something else for once.

"Yes, something's wrong."

I wince. Try _everything,_ Elena. Everything's wrong.

"I can't keep any of the animal blood down."

So that explains it. Fucking great.

"Well, there's a shock," I smile at her.

I should probably cut her some slack. I'm being an ass and she feels like shit. And I know that if all she really wanted was to ask about the council she would have just called or texted. But she didn't and that's not why she's here with me instead of Steffie dearest.

Not even twelve hours and her master let-Stefan-ruin-me plan is already failing and she wants me to just automatically know that she needs me to fix it. She probably won't even ask. She just thinks I'll do it 'cause she decided I'm her little bitch.

Nope. Not gonna.

I make a mental note that I need to call and send the housekeeper I keep on standby to open up my apartment so it'll be ready when I arrive. Nothing like coming home to piles of dust and stale air.

Awesome. She's looking at me like she can't believe I'm not falling all over to help her. Like I'm happy she's suffering.

_Nice going, Salvatore. No wonder she doesn't fucking love you. _

I need to tell her no. I should tell her no. She's a big girl and she needs to learn how to figure this shit out on her own.

Fuck.

I won't tell her no. I'm not even sure my brain knows how to put those two letters together when she's looking at me like a lost kitten. I hate that she knew I'd help, and I will. But it doesn't mean I have to be happy about this, or even pleasant for that matter.

"I think I need your help."

I sigh. Of course she does. I'm screwed.

"Of course you do." I smile just a little so she knows I'm in.

Bye-bye banya.

"Pick your meal. You got Asian-fusion, Mexican… How about some good old American comfort food?"

I'm screwing around a little bit but I'm more than a little tipsy and I'm not going to sugar-coat this shit for her. If she wants my help, this is it.

"No."

Is she fucking serious?

"No human blood."

Then what the _hell_ does she want? Why does she _always_ think there's some secret door number three that's _only_ for her, and that I know exactly where it is and how to fucking open it? Must be nice living in la-la land all the damn time.

"Stefan's right…"

Yeah, sure he is, sweetheart. That's why you're here with me, trying not to eat my bartender.

"I have to at least _try_ to get through this without hurting anyone."

Hurting _Stefan, _she means. Asshole.

Her words take me back to her bedroom and I get an idea. She wants door number three? She's got it. I slam my drink back before I can change my mind. This is going to be a whole lot of dumb on an impressive scale.

"Fine, come on," I say and tow her into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.

Nice. In a bathroom. _Classy move, dickhead._

"What are you doing?" she asks as I bite into my palm and let the blood pool.

Here we go. At least I'll have new fodder for my fantasies.

"Giving you what you need. Drink."

"What?"

She's panicking. She can't look away, her heartbeat just went through the roof and she actually pulled back and gasped when I put my hand in front of her like I was showing her something horrifying.

I don't know where she's finding the control to keep her face clear. She's actually doing amazing, other than having the complete opposite reaction she should, but we can fix that. She's just nervous because she hasn't done it yet. At least she hasn't torn my hand from my arm. I like this hand.

"You're a new vampire, Elena. You need warm blood, from the vein. Maybe this'll do the trick. Or not…" I add because I know the truth.

This may hold her over for an hour or two, but that's it. Mikael lived on vampires so I'm willing to give this a shot but he made it seem like that was a lifestyle change that took years to get down. I'm not putting any more than one egg in this stupid basket.

"But, just don't tell Stefan," I say because I'm a moron.

"Why not?"

Her eyes still haven't left my offering and she's squirming closer to it. She's fighting, but barely. I doubt she even knows what I'm saying. Fine with me.

"Because blood sharing is kind of…personal."

Right. Personal. That's one way to describe it.

If I wasn't already damned I would be for this. But if she can't keep animal blood down and she refuses to drink from humans or blood bags, what the _hell_ am I supposed to give her? She's hurting, she's starving and I can't handle this.

I'm fucking desperate.

"What do you mean it's personal?"

Nope, not going there. She'll figure it out in about two seconds if she would for once just do what I tell her to.

"Just drink," I say a second time. I hate repeating myself and she knows that. And if I have to tell her again she's going to be in a world of trouble.

She makes the mistake of looking at my eyes and I know I've got her.

I nod once and it's done.

She wraps both her little hands around mine and closes her eyes as she brings it to her mouth. Her tongue massages the back of my hand, her breath sweeping over my skin. I feel them break through, sliding seamlessly into me, and she's biting me.

Holy shit, this is the best and worst decision I have ever fucking made.

I know she's lost in my blood; she gave in to it as soon as it touched her lips. She could have just licked up what was in my palm waiting for her, what I gifted her. She's not interested in that.

She wants more. I want more.

It's always _more_ with her, as long as it's on her terms. And she's not having anything but her own way right now.

I'm in heaven, in a bathroom.

She's demanding my obedience, my blood, my life. She's taking it without restraint or remorse and I've never been more proud of her. I've never been so attracted to her.

I would let her drain me dry if it meant she knew she could be a vampire without killing or feeling ashamed. That, and as long as she never pulls her teeth out of me ever again. They're so damn sharp she'd probably cut me if I kissed her right now.

_Lock that shit down, Salvatore. She's starving and you're a donor. Nothing more._

Fuck, this feels amazing and there's no way I'm going to be able to hide how hard I am right now when she keeps making that sound. I know that sound. She _wants._

She's pulling on me, stepping in closer. Her whole body is moving, pulsing, rising and falling with each stronger swallow.

I don't know what the fuck is happening.

Her body is curled into mine, her shoulder pushing against me. My left hand has placed itself on her hair; it's stroking her lovingly, gently, while she makes love to my vein with her mouth. Her hip slides against the front of my jeans and I stumble back. I hit something and I can only think not to fall so she won't stop.

I don't want her to stop.

She's pressing into me with all she is and she's so warm. She's burning me and there are endless layers of clothes between us. There's nothing between us.

I'm trying to breathe. I want to breathe. I want to inhale everything that's overtaking us. She's so turned on and it's melting into the citrus perfume of her lotion and swirling with our sweat and my cologne and I've never smelled anything this sensual, this_ right_. It's so thick I can taste it on the air that I'm trying to hold in my empty lungs. I want to be flooded in this.

Skin. I can feel her skin…

God, she's so soft. How is she so soft?

I find my hand on her back, under her shirt, and I don't know how long it's been there. I don't even remember slipping it under there.

I need to stop this. She doesn't know. She can't.

I start to pull it out and she growls at me, sliding her leg between mine and deliberately rubbing against my cock as she takes another deep pull. My vision blurs, my knees feel weak. With every swipe of her tongue she's taking more of me. Soon I won't exist except inside of her and that's the only place I want to be.

My hand decides to leave her spine to find her hip, sneaking under the top of her jeans and pulling her, guiding her back so I can feel every supple curve of her ass against me. I love my hand.

She's rolling against me in a way that is unconscious, innate, instinctive, and my body is dancing with hers; my hips knowing to thrust forward to meet her. I'm absorbing her back with my chest but the top of her shoulders are curled into herself as she cradles my hand. She hasn't let go once.

My brilliant fingers are brave and want to explore their new-found territory, so they do and I let them. With every press and shift she's giving me they're daring further outwards, stretching out across her. I pet the satin that is her stomach, my palm wrapping around her ribs with my arm locked across her, holding her into me so she can't escape.

She's holding me tighter.

My hand drifts again and my pinky slips back into her jeans, my thumb sweeping over her belly button. She's rocking forward to push me where she wants me, my ring catching the button on her jeans. It pops open with a snap that echoes our lost restraint.

She's moaning louder and parting her thighs, inviting me. Every reaction is so natural, it's like her body is welcoming me home. It's directing my wrist to turn, pointing my fingertips down the path to where bliss awaits. I glide closer to her center and her skin trembles.

I'm so near to her. I'm too far away.

My palm slides and my finger dips and I'm where I know I belong. She's so silky, so warm, so perfect. That pad of my middle finger presses her clit in reverence, her teeth abruptly cutting deeper.

I want to hear her but she knows she can't scream. She wants to. She needs to. She's pulsing and throbbing and melting over me, and I know she's contracting because I can feel it against the base of my hand but I haven't entered her yet.

I open my eyes so I can see her. I've kept them closed because I knew as soon as I saw her neck my mouth would be against it. I was right. My lips find their rightful place and my tongue greets her, my finger pressing again so it can taste her for me.

Her head whips back into my shoulder, releasing me, and my now free right hand moves to her heart so she's safe.

"Damon…" she's whispers, her voice delicious and husky and afraid.

"I've got you. I won't let go," I promise and she shakes violently as her silent orgasm continues to rip through her.

Her nails are digging into the tops of my thighs and they're drawing blood I didn't know I had left. She's helpless against me, fighting through ecstasy to channel all her pleasure into my fingers but nowhere else.

She's winning. She's climaxing harder and it's not stopping as I circle her, exploring my gift. The only sounds I can hear are the short spurts of gasps she's allowing herself.

I want to hold her here forever. I want to take her home. I can see us in the mirror and nothing has ever looked this right. She fits against me perfectly and we're beautiful together. I don't need any other truth than this.

My mind recognizes that I need to let her breathe so I lift my finger just enough to separate us. Her body spasms at the loss, panting in exhaustion and satisfaction.

But she's not done and I'm not through with her.

I need more.

* * *

_*A banya is a Russian steam room or bath house made out of wood. Russian banyas usually have three rooms: a steam room, a washing room and an entrance room. Temperatures often will exceed 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and you can add mineral and aromatherapy extracts to the water. You sweat and relax, go outside and jump in the snow, then go back in and repeat. Very popular, very relaxing. Think Ariel from Grumpy Old Men running outside in the snow and rolling around in her bathing suit._

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**A/N: Well my dears, I hope you enjoyed! Please review, sooooo curious to hear your thoughts! And stay tuned! Much more to come... Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	4. The Rules of Retraction

**A/N:** **You guys blow me away. Cannot say that enough. Thank you all soooooo much, and same to all guest reviewers I cannot reply to personally. Y'all are the best.**

**Switching to Elena, picking up EXACTLY where we left off (in the bathroom at the Grill during the blood sharing scene), so feel free to hit back a chapter for a refresher if need be. Enjoy!**

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**ELENA POV**

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**The Rules of Retraction**

I need to taste him.

That's all I can think.

My body is ignited with the rush of blood and euphoria from my orgasm and it feels like everything is on the most exquisite overload. There is no world, no life, no right, no wrong. There is only his skin and mine. There is no time, only movement that blurs between rapid need and still wonder.

There is nothing. We are everything. He is all I know, all I want to exist in. His mouth is against my neck, his tongue teasing and tasting me. I should be allowed to do the same. The strangled breaths I'm taking only remind me as the air rushes in that my mouth is empty. I want it, need it, to be full of him.

His hands are holding me to him, his palm over my heart while his other massages the skin under my panties, his fingers braided through my curls. I want to feel him too.

I find my hands against his thighs and they move before I tell them to, sliding higher up his legs until I find him. He's straining between the dimples of my lower back and he's so deliciously thick. I circle and hold him with both my hands and there's the most sensational growl against my skin.

I want to crawl inside that sound and never escape. I want it to be the song of my life, my opus.

I squeeze him gently so I can hear him again and he's gone, my skin untouched and my hands painfully empty. I haven't even opened my eyes and he returns, his erection against my belly demanding my movement into the wall behind me. I comply and let him pin me, ready to be devoured.

My body has never been so aware and I love it. I wonder what everything feels like now. I want to know how soft his lips will be against mine, how sharp his teeth. I need to discover what it will feel like to have him stretch me and how warm his release will be when he imprints me.

Everything is already so much _more_ and I need to explore it all. I need to know.

I don't have a choice. This is what I am, what I'm here for. This is my purpose: to bring him pleasure in letting him enjoy me in any way he pleases.

I love destiny.

I reach for his belt to free him, my eyes and body eager to be consumed with all that I've been denied. He stops me, grabbing my wrist and bringing it over my head. The coldness of the wall is a shock to my oversensitive skin, the contrast sending more ripples of awakening through me.

"No," he tells me, smiling in a challenging command.

I smirk back at him and try again. My fingertips barely brush him and my other hand is captured, being forced to join my first. He layers them together so they appear as one, slipping the long fingers of his right hand through mine as he locks all three together.

I watch as he slowly lowers his left hand to his mouth, his eyes rolling back and black veins fleetingly appearing as he tastes me on his finger. I lick my lips in envy and he sees.

His head tilts with a mischievous grin, silently asking if I want him to share.

I do.

I wet my lips again and lean forward to claim my reward, but I can't reach him. He is so satisfied with my unhidden want; I can see it in the fire that's burning in his eyes. I pull on my hands, but it's hopeless. I won't be free until he wants me to be.

I never want to be released.

He chuckles at my futile struggle and cups my cheek, his thumb sweeping over my lips. The band of his ring is still warm from being so close to my heat, my smell even more potent with his fingers pressed against my face.

He's teasing me with my own scent and he hasn't allowed me to taste it.

He's being so selfish. It was mine in the first place, I have every right to it if I want it.

I turn my head in his hand, my tongue striking out into his palm and dragging it up to take back what's mine. I barely reach my prize before he snatches it away and moves it to my chest, his hand filling the space between my breasts.

My fangs drop and I hiss at him in frustration, making him laugh quietly.

His control of volume signals my mind to recognize the need for us to be quiet, of the threat of unknown ears listening to our secret. I don't want anyone to hear. They don't deserve to have any part of this. This is _mine_ and I'll protect it with my life if I have to. I'm alive because of his blood and I belong to him. This cannot be undone.

I am wife and daughter and sister and friend. I am his and no one will take me away from him.

Ever.

I'm so embodied by this knowledge, this natural feeling of right and belonging, that I don't hesitate when I raise my head and smile my vixen grin. I press against his cock and trace my lips painstakingly slow with my tongue, letting it linger over the sharp points I had been penetrating him with.

It works.

His eyes flair as he sucks in a breath, his cock growing impossibly harder as it searches for its home. I lose when I smile in triumph and he recovers, smirking at me as he lifts his chin and leans back, expanding the distance between me and my goal.

I growl and yank against his hold but he still won't release me, pushing against my chest harder as he relishes in his control. He's driving me crazy, teasing me, and I can't stop myself before I pout and look down, exasperated.

My eyes stumble on the sight of his hand turning over, the tip of his index finger catching my chin and lifting it so I'm forced to meet his eyes. I forget my frustration completely as I explore them, only faintly aware that he's now caressing my cheek again. I close my eyes so I can focus on his touch.

His fingers are sweeping over me, tracing my hairline and tucking the strays behind my ear. His perfectly masculine and manicured fingernails tickle me as they slide across my skin and I feel precious. I've never been touched so tenderly.

He's being so sweet to me. I don't deserve to be loved like this by him, but I won't tell him to stop. I may not be worthy, but he is. And if I'm what he wants, I'll let him have me.

He's still caressing me everywhere he cares to, his knuckles brushing my jaw, petting my throat and the vein I want him to drink from.

I don't see. I only feel, hear, smell.

He's silent, but I'm not. I'm struggling to breathe under the intensity of his gaze that I can feel touching me, though my eyes are closed. I always know where his hand is, even when he separates us. The pull between us is stronger than distance and I yearn for him, reach for him, though I don't move.

It's not just my body that calls to him. It's my soul.

I feel a tug on my bottom lip and they part instantly at his request, his open mouth brushing against mine. I inhale his breath and he is all that is spicy and sweet, scorching and soothing and renaming what I thought was air.

My devious tongue is curious and peeks into him to find its match. It finds him lying in wait, patient and calm. They meet slowly, softly, carefully, in awe of one another. They are remembering after too long of being forced apart.

I surge deeper, eager for more and when I taste him fully I find myself on him. What I had been searching for. I've never tasted anything so rich.

He lets me explore him, learning and massaging every ridge, every valley. He gives me permission to take my time, letting me set the pace; breathing steadily for both of us while I lose myself in fascination.

My tongue sweeps over his smooth and blunt teeth and I'm mesmerized by the texture. They're hard but forgiving and cold though his mouth is hot. They are the most beautiful contradiction with the velvet that is his tongue.

I touch the place where his fangs hide, needing to find all of him. They prick me as they start to descend so I move aside, but as they fully arrive I reach again to feel them, dragging myself across the point and testing their brutality. I press until I draw my own blood, his blood that I carry inside me. I extend once more to find my taste on him, mixing them together, and it's singularly the best idea I've ever had.

We taste like the sun when combined. Bright and life, but searing and raging, fighting for dominance and balance between beauty and deadliness. We're both moaning in satisfaction and delight, yearning for more, and I'm full of excitement and anticipation when his enthusiasm begins to match my own.

I retreat and he follows, crossing the threshold into my own mouth, right where I want him. I offer him the same courtesy and let him reach and touch every part of me that he wants. I feel vulnerable and exposed and open, but he is gentle and reverent as he presses into the interior of my cheek and brushes against my teeth.

My body knows what it wants before my mind does and my lips wrap around his tongue and pull, amazed by the sensation.

Whatever restraint he was holding to, I broke it then.

He's growling and pushing, driving me further into the wall by the force of his kiss alone. His hands forget their ploy to keep me contained and I realize I'm free when his fingers are buried in my hair, pulling towards him.

I've never been so consumed.

Our kiss in Denver was church appropriate in comparison to this. He is the epitome of passion, the God of desire, the monarch of sex. I could spend centuries letting him kiss me and never even think of another man. There are none. He is all that populates busy streets and bustling cities. He's everyone, because there are no others.

My hands find their place on his neck and I'm jealous of them. I don't want to lose his lips but I need to taste his skin.

I bite his lip and he hisses, distracting him enough so I can move to his jaw. I work my way down, touching him with my lips, my tongue, my teeth, as I worship the hard lines and tight muscles. My hands move to his chest in deference to my eager mouth and I love the feeling of his hand covering mine as he presses it over his heart, holding me there. His other is in my hair, the heel of his hand rubbing the back of my neck as he twists his fingers deeper and massages my scalp.

The smell of his blood is intoxicating and I'm already addicted. I don't think before I sink my teeth into his neck and swallow.

I'm delirious and high, swimming and sinking. I know everything about him as soon as I taste him. I can taste the bourbon he favors and the coffee he prefers. I know his preference for brunettes and for wood over iron. I can taste his laughter and his tears, his love and his hate, his past and his future. I can taste all that can't be contained in flavor, because I'm drinking his whole life.

And there's nothing more satisfying than knowing that all he is, I am now too. This is what created me, sustains me, protects me. This is what makes me strong and vibrant. All that I am, is him.

My hands have been busy with my teeth in his vein and his shirt is ripped open, my nails scouring his chest. He's trembling under my touch, shaking under each pull of my lips against him. I reach between us to feel him again and as soon as I wrap my fingers around him, he vanishes, dropping to the floor.

"Damon?" I squeak, terrified.

He's on his knees in front of me, holding my hips for support while leaning his forehead against my stomach.

"I'm okay," he whispers as he nuzzles his cheek against me, struggling to catch his breath. He's hugging my waist and kissing where he's lifted my shirt just a few inches, but he's not looking at me.

I comb my fingers through his hair, tilting his head back so I can find the truth I know I'll see in his eyes.

"Damon?"

His color is drained and his skin and eyes are too gray, the sharpness of his cheekbones too prominent. He's smiling at me like he's drunk and without a care in the world, but he doesn't have the strength to keep his eyes open.

"No," I whisper in horror as I take him in.

"What?" he drawls and tries to smirk, but it doesn't happen. I can't believe he's pretending that I haven't almost killed him.

I lower myself down, straddling his hips, unable to bear anything except being as close as possible. He moans under the friction, his hands instinctively cupping my ass and placing me where I feel best to him.

I can't help but smile. Only Damon Salvatore could have an erection seconds away from desiccation. It's probably speeding up the process by stealing whatever blood I missed.

"Hi," he smiles lazily once I'm still, kissing me sweet and slow, his hands finding their way to my back and under my shirt.

"Damon, you need to drink," I plead.

"No," he says decidedly as he kisses my cheek.

"Please?"

"I'll be fine, Elena. Relax," he breathes against my neck in between languid kisses.

I tilt my head to afford him better access and to pique his temptation, but he won't give in to me.

"Naughty girl," he teases almost silently. "That would be breaking the rules."

"Fuck it. What's one more," I say with absolute confidence because I mean it.

He stares at me in unfiltered surprise; he's never heard me talk like that. I hardly curse aloud and _never_ in front of him. I don't know why, but I didn't want him to think I even knew all the four letter words he lives on.

I guess I was worried I would seem less sweet than the way he treats me, like it would betray the high opinion he carries of me. Because I am, and try to be, so different than Katherine.

I didn't want to disappoint him.

But he's not disappointed and if anything I think that might have sealed the deal based on the smile he's giving me.

"Nope, not gonna work. You're going to have to try harder than that, Gilbert."

Damn it.

I kiss him deeply, taking my time until the intensity builds to where we were before he collapsed.

"Please, Damon. I want to know what it feels like."

"You play dirty," he smirks at me.

"I'll let you see just _how dirty_ if you bite me," I try to seduce him.

He groans and grabs me again, pulling me impossibly closer while rocking his hips up into where I want him. I'm aching to cradle him inside me but I want him whole and perfect. I'm desperate for him to make love to me, but he'll never have the strength if he doesn't drink from me first.

His hands and mouth are everywhere as I grind against him, and I hate my clothes. I need to be bare so I can have all I want. His fingers slip through mine and our rings lock together, a perfect match. I watch him as he brings them to his lips, kissing them, and I know.

Of course. How could I have thought any different?

"Thank you," I tell him sincerely, pressing myself into his chest as I cradle his face, kissing him with all the amazement he makes me feel.

He smiles when I release him, pleased but confused. Wonderful, beautiful man.

"My ring."

He cocks his head at me, and I don't know if he's trying to pretend that he doesn't know what I'm talking about, or if he just doesn't want to admit it in case I don't.

"I know it came from you," I say and he looks away, the muscles in his jaw tight.

"Hey," I sooth at him, turning him back to face me so I can see his eyes and he can find the honesty in mine.

"It's perfect and beautiful and I love it. Thank you, for always taking such good care of me."

He swallows thickly. He believes me and I smile, pleased.

"Did-"

"No," I stop him, laying my thumb over his lips so they will still.

I don't want to hear the names. There are no other names.

"You would know exactly what I would want just as if I was to choose it myself. And I know you wanted to keep me from turning if you could, but it would never stop you from being prepared. You _always_ make sure I'm safe, no matter what."

I replace my thumb with my lips, kissing the man that loves me so much he would let me wear his ring without me ever knowing it. He would hope I wouldn't because he wouldn't want it to taint our emotions. With Damon, it has to be real and material things just get in the way.

I'm sure he's been used for money and cars and clothes and jewelry and he knows those things don't matter to me, but I can also see him not wanting to take the risk. I'm too important to him, so he'd rather shower me in luxury and never have me know so that way I'm spoiled, but not indebted. He's so selfless it amazes me.

"I'm glad you like it," he smiles meekly, making me beam. He deserves to be appreciated and I'm so thrilled that he knows I know.

"I love it," I reassure him and if he had any blood left he might be blushing.

It gives me an idea. He's going to be so angry, but I don't care. I have to try to take care of him the way he does me. I make a fist and blur my hand across my neck, letting the diamonds tear open the skin over my vein, releasing the blood I need him to drink.

"Elena!" he hisses at me, grabbing my hand before I can damage myself further.

"Drink," I command.

He's furious.

"If you ever do that again I will take it back. Do you understand me?"

"Mm-hmm," I nod, unfazed. I'm going to win. "Drink."

"No."

"Why not?" I snap at him. He's being ridiculous. "You don't even have to bite me, though that's incredibly unfair. You need it, I want it. So just do it already."

"Elena…" He says my name like he's tired of explaining this to me, but he hasn't given me a single reason and until he does I'm not going to stop pushing. "You don't have enough to spare."

I bring my wrist next to my mouth. I'll force him if I have to.

"Your choice," I say, letting my fangs drop in preparation in case I need them. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

He laughs and shakes his head, the movement of his body underneath mine re-igniting the blaze between my thighs.

"You're so stubborn it's insane."

"Deal with it. Drink. Please, Damon…"

He sighs at me and cups my face before he kisses me, making me melt into him.

"I'll leave," I threaten quietly as he kisses my cheek. I won't. I'm never leaving this bathroom as long as I live.

"Sure you will," he whispers, nibbling on my earlobe.

"Damon…"

"Fine, you win," he tells me, kissing me deeply again.

He takes his time, still enjoying his freedom but I'm impatient. His hands drift from my neck and he wraps mine around him so they're laced through his hair, his fingertips trailing back down my arms and sides until they reach my hips.

I gasp when his thumbs graze over my nipples and they harden and extend further, aching for more contact.

"Feel good?" he asks quietly, kissing the underside of my jaw, and I nod. "Good. You can't be angry or scared or it'll hurt, even though I don't want it to."

I nod again, I understand. But all I feel is beauty and want and I crave him inside me every way he can be.

I feel him lift my shirt and my bra comes with it, the underwire scraping against my nipples on the way past. My arms rise on their own as he reveals me, and I'm free. My head falls back with a sigh, arching into the hand that's supporting me so I'm stretched out before him.

It feels so natural, so comfortable to share myself with him. I should probably be nervous or embarrassed, but I'm not. He feels like home, like we've always been this open. And he never lets me feel anything but safe.

I hear myself moan as he touches his tongue against my nipple, greeting it slowly for the first time. I can't wait to see all that he can do and make me feel, and everywhere he can make me feel it. My hips are rolling with his in a way that they instinctively know, searching for fulfillment. I'm void where I want to feel stretched, imprisoned by denim and a metal zipper.

He presses his tongue harder, his fangs dipping into the vein in my breast that trails over my heart.

I'm lost in euphoria.

My walls are clenching in envy of penetration, squeezing the nothing where I should be holding him inside me. He grips me tighter as I climax higher, trying to keep me steady as I spasm and shake through my orgasm. My mind is floating, hovering somewhere between the earth and space where you can see heaven in the stars. I'm weightless and saved from the pain of life and regret.

With every swallow he takes I release more, and he cleans me of everything except for love. That's all he leaves behind. Love and more pleasure than I ever knew could exist in this gracious and cruel world.

He moves me and I'm on the floor with my legs around his waist, but my back touches nothing except his hand. He's holding me up into him as he drives into me, but it's not enough; he's not entering me.

Why am I still wearing my jeans?

He's breathing heavier and groaning in my ear as he presses harder, faster; anxious and needing his own release.

I was wrong. This is the only sound I ever want to know.

I reach between us to feel him and this time he doesn't stop me. I loosen his belt and unhook the button, only caring to make enough room so my hand can slip inside. His abs ripple and clench and when I wrap my fingers around him, I'm amazed. He's so hard it's like gripping steel, but his skin is the softest thing I've ever felt. How can he be such two different things at once?

His body is magic.

His fangs pierce my neck and I have to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming out in pleasure. My teeth breaking his skin causes him to jerk and growl, his release spilling into the fabric between us.

We stay here, struggling to re-find time. We lay gasping for seconds, minutes, hours, days? I don't know and I don't care. I never want to move. I just want to stay still and quiet, breathing in the smell of sweat and blood and sex and _Damon_ and cover my body with his for warmth.

I'm so relaxed, so sated, and I'm exhausted. I want to go to sleep and almost do, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest against me and the kisses he's placing against my hair and forehead.

"Shit," I hear him say and the handle on the door turns, straining under the pressure of whoever wasn't expecting to find it locked.

I freeze.

"Hold on," he growls at the door. "Time to go," he whispers to me, sitting up on his heels.

I'm not ready to let go, so I don't, and come with him; keeping my arms and legs locked around him with my face buried in his neck. He rumbles a low chuckle, his fingertips trailing up and down my exposed spine.

"You gonna let go so I can compel this guy and we can go home?" he quietly teases.

We.

Home.

I shake my head at him and he laughs again.

"Okay. Hold on to me, sweetheart."

I don't know where he finds the strength, but he stands up with me still wrapped around his upper body, one of his arms supporting my bottom and the other holding me to him. He carries me to the counter and I know he's going to set me down, but I don't want him to. I'm not ready yet. I just want him to hold me so I can sleep.

My bottom hits the marble and he leans forward, propping me gently against the mirror. It's freezing against my bare skin. His hands move to unhook my legs and he leaves me.

I can't find the will to even open my eyes I'm in such a haze of blood and sex. I listen as he opens the door, saying something to whoever was on the other side, before he closes it again and locks it. His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the floor, pauses, then stops back in front of me.

I feel the brush of his lips against mine and it surprises me, causing me to flinch.

Damon freezes.

Oh no, what did I just do?

I want to kiss him. I'm in love with his mouth and tongue, but he caught me off guard. What if he thinks I'm rejecting him? I open my eyes, worried at what I will find and I wish I would've kept them shut. I'll never forget this look as long as I'm alive. It's my worst nightmare.

He's livid and he's hurt, staring at me with incredulity while the muscles in his jaw pop and snap furiously under his skin. My hand reaches for his cheek to reassure and comfort him, but I don't reach it. He hits my hand away, jerking back from me as if I was poisonous.

What have I done?

"Damon?"

"Put your shirt on," he snaps at me, retrieving it from the other side of the sink and throwing it at me.

I catch it but I don't move, frozen in shock at how quickly everything has gone from perfect to so, so, wrong.

"Get dressed, Elena," he hisses and I jump at the anger in his voice.

I do as he wants and put my shirt on while he washes his hands. As soon as he's finished he wets a paper towel, then rings it out. He turns to me and presses it to my neck, cleaning the blood off gently but without really looking at me.

He won't meet my eyes.

He cleans both sides of my neck, my chest from where his bloody palm was against me and my chin. He doesn't say a word, he just wipes it all away. When he's done he throws the towel away without ceremony and pulls my hair forward to cover the blood I can smell on my shirt. It must be from where I scratched myself with my ring.

I don't know what to say to fix this. Whatever I try to tell him, he won't believe me now. He's decided that he knows what I'm feeling and why, and he's so wrong, but I'll never be able to convince him otherwise, no matter what I say.

"Go home and take a shower before Stefan finds you. You reek of sex."

His voice is cold and detached and it sends me reeling. His brother's name is more reality that I can deal with right now, so I don't pay attention to it. I'll handle that later. I have to take care of Damon first.

I still haven't moved. I'm just staring at him, waiting for him to look at me. He sighs and shakes his head in frustration, his long fingers curling around the top of my arm. He yanks me off the counter, not hard enough to hurt me but more than enough to accomplish his goal. I stumble on my shaky feet and he keeps his hand on my arm to steady me before he lets go.

I continue to stand there, incapable of telling my feet to move when I shouldn't be alive to think. No one should be able to cause him this much pain and survive it.

This is so wrong.

I finally take a step and I'm blocked, his arm shooting out across my hips and stopping me before I can go anywhere. I'm so surprised, I'm so confused. Does he want me to stay or go? I don't know what he wants and I can't tell what's going through his mind, and this _kills_ me because I know him so well.

He buttons my jeans, still not speaking or looking at my eyes as his knuckles brush against my skin. I start to cry, my head hanging and a single tear falling. It's all ruined now, because I'm a moron. This should have been the most beautiful memory and it's tainted now, for me and for him.

His hands leave my jeans and I feel a push against my lower back as he lightly shoves me towards the door.

No.

I'm not leaving until I fix this.

"Damon-"

"You got what you came for, Elena. Now go home."

"No, that's not-"

"You know what?" he sneers, turning to face me. I get the full blast of his pain in his eyes and I cower under them. "I don't care."

Three long strides and he's gone, breaking the lock on the door and the seal on our stolen hour as he marches away from me.

Fifteen minutes later and I'm in my bedroom. I haven't stopped crying since I left the Grill.

My phone chirps and it's Caroline telling me there's a memorial being organized for the council this afternoon and exactly when and where she expects me so I can help. I don't want to go. I just want to stay here and cry.

I realize I have no other missed calls or texts and I have no idea where Stefan is. I should be feeling guilty after dry-humping his brother in a bathroom, but I don't. All I feel is anger and abandonment. I haven't even been a vampire for two days and he should be with me, making me feel better about everything and ensuring that I'm not killing anyone. I'm not, but I could be for all he knows.

When Damon turned Vicky they had her on lockdown. And yeah, she was a druggie, but still. When Caroline turned, Stefan wouldn't even leave her to come with me to Duke to check out Isobel's office. Damon had to come with me.

What could possibly be so important, more important to him, than making sure I'm okay? First it's all, "I only care about revenge against Klaus," and now, this? I'm done being his last priority. Even if I wasn't falling for Damon, as much as I try to resist it, I still wouldn't stand for this. I deserve better than _that_ at least and he and I are going to have to talk. Soon.

If I knew where he was. Not that I wish he was here.

I pull my shirt over my head so I can take a shower and I stop, everything shifting.

It smells like us.

I bring it to my face and breathe, letting my mind replay every kiss and touch that happened in this shirt. I pull the sleeves back through and fold it carefully. I open the bottom drawer of my dresser where I put the clothes I no longer wear but won't throw away, laying it in the back underneath a pile of sweaters and my shirts with paint on them from when I was in cheerleading and had to help decorate.

I seal it away without another look and go to my bathroom, peeling off my jeans and bra and underwear and throwing them lazily into the hamper. I turn on the hot water and take a step into the shower, but when I reach for the curtain something catches my eye in the mirror.

I step out of the tub and up to the counter, staring at my reflection.

There are two streaks on my left breast, right above my heart. They remind me of the tracks mascara makes when I cry, but they're red.

One is my blood from where he bit me. The other is his. He must have missed it when he cleaned me. They're close together, but not touching. I don't even think before I swipe my thumb across them.

Damon's blood is dry and doesn't budge. Mine is wet, but it smears in the wrong direction, away from his. I stand there, looking at my chest in the mirror.

I hold my hand over my broken and bleeding heart, and I cry.

* * *

**A/N:** **Thank so much for reading that loooooong chapter and hanging in til the end! Hope you enjoyed, much more still to come! Please review, always love to hear your thoughts. Happy Reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	5. Truth by Numbers

**A/N: Hello my dears! Are you still with me? So sorry for the delay. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!**

**Episode point of reference: We've made it past the Grill and into the Memorial, Elena just had a mini-convo with Matt about why she needed to be there to help, and saw April Young which made her tummy unhappy. **

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**Truth By Numbers**

There's blood everywhere.

It's all over my hands, my face, my clothes, the bathroom.

It happened so fast. I smelled April and my stomach rolled. The blood that was in me was in the way of what I needed, what I wanted, and I had to throw it up. I didn't have a choice. My insides became concave and nausea rippled up and out until I was clean and void and ready to receive.

But at the same time, a part of me knew that it was Damon's blood I was vomiting and that made me even sicker. I should be protecting that blood, not spewing it out of me violently. It felt like betrayal.

My whole body is shaking and a cold sweat has broken out over the fiery tingles under my skin. I'm so tired of feeling this way. Ever since I've turned I've felt sick and weak and shaky and it really, really sucks. Damon and Stefan always look like the healthiest fashion models I've ever seen and I've never looked worse.

I've never felt worse. I've never done any serious drugs, but this is what I imagine withdrawal to be like. My skin is itching and my head is pounding. I feel like I have acid instead of blood in my veins and I'm getting these waves and flashes where I feel like I want to faint, but I'm scared that if I close my eyes I won't wake back up.

I look like I'm dying.

"Breathe, just breathe," I say to myself. I close my eyes and force myself to take three steadying gulps of air.

I open my eyes and look in the blood-splattered mirror. I am not the cheerleader that lost her parents. I am a vampire and I can handle this. I need to get the bathroom cleaned up and me out of here. I've already been gone a few minutes and it won't be long before someone comes to look for me.

My clothes. I need someone to bring me a new dress.

I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over the number two but it's itching towards the number one.

Damon got me this phone after I broke the last one when I threw it at him. I don't even remember what I had been mad about. I just remember the satisfaction of seeing it explode against the wall next to his head. He could have caught it, but I think he knew I just needed to destroy something at the time. If anybody understands that, he does.

He also programmed the numbers, complete with nicknames for all my contacts. It took me a week to put it all back. I didn't realize he had changed anything else until I held down the number one to call Stefan, and Damon's name appeared on the screen. There's no way Stefan could know about my speed dial, but I should probably change it. I still haven't.

I press and hold the number two. It doesn't even ring, it just goes straight to voicemail. His phone is off.

I hang up in fury. What if I needed him? I do need him. I'm covered in blood and I need help and he's nowhere to be found. Typical Stefan.

I hold the number one.

It rings four times before it goes to voicemail. No message, just a tone that tells you it's recording. I hang up without saying anything.

It's only been a few hours since the bathroom and before that was everything that happened in my bedroom, and there is no way to say all that needs to be said in a sixty-second message. I don't really blame him for not wanting to talk to me, even though that was all a huge misunderstanding. Right now I just really need him to answer.

I make myself count to ten before I try again.

It rings once and then it clicks over.

He's ignoring me. But his phone is on or it wouldn't have rung at all. I know what he's doing. I can see it perfectly in my head. He's holding it in his hand, looking at my name on the screen, his finger over the button that'll send me away. He's pushing it.

I don't wait five seconds before I call again.

Three rings. It took him longer. I don't hesitate to try once more.

I count.

One, two, three, four, five.

"What?"

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I can't get clean.

I've been in the shower over half an hour, scrubbing the shit out of my skin. I'm surprised I have any left. I can still smell her on me and I can't get it to go away.

I don't know what the hell happened in that damn bathroom. I mean, I know, but I never meant for things to get so out of control. Not that I'm complaining. Something happened when I locked that door, like all the obstacles and all the reasons of why we're playing the "just friends" game weren't able to reach us once it was shut.

My mind runs over the whole scene in fast forward and I realize something: I don't think she said his name the whole time we were in there. She only said mine.

It reminded me of Denver, but with the pleasant absence of Jeremy. She just let go and it was fucking glorious. She wasn't nervous or inhibited, she knew what she wanted and she went for it. And what she wanted was me. Best feeling in the world.

Having to literally fight her out of my pants so that I wasn't fucking her in the bathroom of the local high school hangout? Priceless. She was all over me, kissing me and grabbing me and literally forcing me to drink from her. I tried to put the brakes on more than once, but she wasn't having it. She initiated just about everything that happened in my favorite restroom in the country, so she can't blame me no matter how hard she tries.

I don't exactly remember how we got to the floor but I must have passed out for a second. That really pisses me off, the idea that I might have missed something. But she damn near drank me dry, feisty little vampire she is. I just know one second we're against the wall, and the next she was in my lap and apparently I was free to kiss and touch her as much as I wanted. I woke up in some kind of alternate universe and it was brilliant, apart from the locale.

She was so open and free and she didn't hold back. I always knew she could be like that if she would just let herself. I've seen her like this before, but not often. I get peeks of her like this _sometimes_ when it's just the two of us, but less since Stefan's been back. And I love seeing her like that, when she doesn't know anything about curses or blood or death. All she knows is how good I'm making her feel.

I shake my head and make myself remember, scrubbing harder.

She betrayed me, she played me, she used me.

She regretted me.

It happened so fast. Ten seconds between bliss and horror. I kissed her and she jumped. I looked at her and it was my worst nightmare. It was all over her face.

_"What have I done?"_

Her guilt gutted me. I still see it.

I didn't mean to hit her hand away, it was just a natural reaction because I didn't want her to touch me after that. I actually felt dirty for letting her drink my blood and get off on me when she knows I'm in love with her and she doesn't care. How did she accomplish that shit? _I'm_ not supposed to care, much less feel so fucking violated by the girl I love.

That was the longest ten minutes of awkward anger that I have ever had to endure, all accompanied with the inescapable smell of sex in the air and the knowledge that I could still taste her on my lips. She was in total shock about what she had done with me. I was in shock about _everything_. I couldn't get my head around it and still quite can't. It's all just a blur.

I had to get out of there, _we_ had to get out of there, and she was covered in blood but she wasn't moving. So I cleaned her up. I'm always cleaning her up. But I couldn't look at her eyes while I did it; I couldn't take that again. That one time will haunt me for as long as I walk the earth. I don't need to add variations to the portfolio.

I'm so deliriously livid. I can't believe she would switch gears on me so quickly. I should be able to believe it, it's not like it's the first time she's done this. I shake my head at myself. I just thought we were past that shit. I didn't think that she'd try this again, not after what happened last time.

I grimace. I guess that makes me the biggest idiot in Mystic Falls and my fucking brother lives here.

My brother. Her epic love. I roll my eyes. Who can't take care of her, who isn't there when she needs him and apparently isn't keeping her satisfied.

My brother, who she keeps choosing.

At this point I actually don't get it anymore. Once, yeah, I got it. I was an asshole who kept killing people and was in love with the captured she-devil, and baby bro was the model human-wannabe vampire who wrinkled his forehead and stole her heart.

But now she knows the whole time he was sweeping her off her feet, he was sweeping piles of shit under the rug that he thought she couldn't handle, and Elena is all about trust and honesty. Though that's not exactly what she practices, just what she preaches.

And she learned something about Stefan. He only comes clean and apologizes when he's busted and never before. He'll lie all day long and he'll get you to believe him. And when you catch him, his apology will be so sincere that you'll forgive him.

She knows and she still chooses him.

She also knows that for all his preaching about not wanting to hurt anybody, his body count makes mine looks like child's play. And his is much more twisted.

I haven't killed in a while. At least, not out of anything other than what could all be loosely grouped into "self-defense". And I haven't slept with anyone since Rebekah, which was admittedly pretty below the belt, even for me.

I'm being fucking good.

And she can't deny this shit anymore. Not after today. She can blame it on the blood if she wants, which she probably will if she even admits to it ever again. But she and I both know that she came out of her blood haze long before her shirt ever came off.

She knew what the hell she was doing and if she tries to say there's nothing between us again, I don't know who I'll kill but it won't be discreet and it won't be a few.

Fuck this. I'm not going to give her the chance. I'm leaving. I'm getting out of the shower and I'm getting on a fucking plane before she can do this again.

I'm done. I'm so fucking done.

I feel the electricity in the room sparkle and I know what's happening before it starts. My phone lights up, beginning to dance across my bathroom counter as it vibrates. I shake my head and turn off the water before wrapping myself in a towel. It's probably Liz with news about the council. Could be Stefan. No way it's her. It doesn't matter who it is, I'm not answering.

I still want to look at it because I'm a moron and a masochist and if it is her calling I can tell her to fuck off, and if it isn't, then I get to remember how she doesn't love me.

I look up in the mirror.

When did I become Stefan? I gotta get the hell out of this house.

I look back down at the phone and freeze when I see her name on the screen. My hand luckily thinks on its own and shoots out, slamming the end button and sending her on her way.

Why the fuck is she calling me? I don't want to talk about it.

She calls again and I ignore her right away. I don't know who she thinks she is. She can't keep pulling this shit.

It rings again.

What is so important that this is the third time she's called me? I let it ring three times before I forward her.

It's alive once more before I even have my finger off the phone. She's pushing me. She knows what's going on.

Somebody's dead. That's the only explanation.

I answer on the fifth ring.

"What?"

"Damon, I don't know what happened I smelled April and I got sick and there's blood everywhere it's all over my clothes and the bathroom and I'm supposed to be helping get ready and Matt's going to be looking for me and I don't-"

"Elena," I say firmly so she'll stop. She rattled that off so fast that if I wasn't a vampire I wouldn't have caught it. "Breathe," I tell her. She's completely panicked. Fucking great. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the church for the memorial," she whimpers at me.

I don't know where she learned how to make that sound, but it has this superhuman ability to both break my heart and make me explode in rage at whoever caused her to make it. It calls my inner caveman to surge forth and protect what's delicate and his, and it quiets all the parts of my brain that are rattling off a list of reasons why I shouldn't go to her rescue.

This is the sound of my life and my death.

"Elena, did anything else happen?"

She knows what I mean, that I'm asking if I need to be prepared to put a couple of bodies in the ground.

"No, nothing else happened."

"Okay, so try to clean up the bathroom and I'll be right there."

I hang up. I don't have time for anything else. I have to get there and I'm not even dressed. I know I've taken clothes off this fast before, but I don't think I've ever put them on in such a rush.

I'm out of the house and in my car in two minutes. I'm faster when I'm running but I'm going to have to play human, and people tend to notice when you don't drive to functions.

I'm halfway to her house when I get her text. She wants me to bring her a blood bag.

Fuck, this is bad.

She's starving and she's desperate to the point that she's willing to forget about all the things that drinking human blood will mean.

It means Stefan was wrong; she can't live his way. She's going to have to find a way to convince him that it doesn't make him less in her eyes that he can't drink human blood, only that his way of life isn't good enough for her. And how will he deal with the temptation of her drinking and keeping human blood around him?

He still gawks at my glass when I drink in front of him and I always wash them out immediately for his sake. It's like living with someone with a drinking problem while you still enjoy a glass of 22-year-old scotch at dinner every night under your doctor's orders. It takes effort and consideration, and it's exhausting.

It also means I was right. Again. She hates that and I'm over the thrill. Usually it comes with her being mad at me about it and I'm over that shit too. Like it's my fault that she can't stomach drinking from animals. If I did it, I'd probably throw up too.

I come back to myself and realize that my arm has moved, my hand remembering on its own exactly how much to turn the wheel as I swing my car into its spot in her driveway. I'm right next to where hers would be parked if she were here, and I've made this turn so many times I could probably do it with my eyes closed. I should try it once, just to see if I can.

She probably locked the front door when she left, but it's fine because she also probably left her damn window open. Again. I keep telling her to lock that shit at least, but she never listens to me. I don't understand why she locks one, but not the other. If someone is coming into that house I'd rather them not go through her bedroom to enter, but she doesn't seem to get that for some reason.

I send her a text before I land in her room and I stop.

Something's different, smells different. Everything looks the same though. Huh.

I grab her over-large tan bag that I hate and her hairbrush off the vanity. I turn around, setting them on her bed so I can go to her closet with free hands when I see her teddy bear propped up against her pillows. Something inside me that was hard and cold melts when I see those beady black eyes and the brown fluffy fur. Elena is the only vampire I've ever known with a teddy bear.

I open her closet and look through her clothes, containing a sigh as I begin to flip through her hangers. She always looks great, but I really want to take her shopping. Or at least give her my credit card while I find the nearest bar. I smirk to myself. That sounds better.

I grab one of her "Little Black Dresses" that's simple, but unique, and demure enough for a church memorial. I catch sight of a black garment bag in the back and I'm not sure why, but I'm immediately turned on. Probably because it reminds me that she looks just as stunning in a leather jacket and boots as she does in a ball gown. And I'm amazed to find that I have no preference.

I've seen her dressed to the nines more than once thanks to this crazy town and their never-ending stream of formal functions. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I even get to dance with her when she's dripping in silk and I can see every luxurious curve of her body outlined in the primary color of the day.

I wonder what's in the bag. I'm going to have to open it so I can put the black one in, but I'm nervous like a kid waiting to open the big present under the tree that he wasn't sure was for him until just now.

I hope it's the blue dress. I fucking love that dress.

I unzip the bag and apparently the next thing I need to wish for is a month-long pause from super-natural bullshit so I can take a perfectly healthy Elena, wearing nothing but a white string bikini, to the Mediterranean where it's impossible not to fall in love with everyone and everything because_ I just got my fucking wish._

I gather it in my hand and lift the bottom out, my hand caressing where her back would be if she were wearing it. I look it over and I can still smell her perfume and the way it circled me when I was dancing with her. I can still feel how soft and warm her skin was, how it glowed under the blue straps that rested against her shoulders. I really do love this dress.

I hang it back up and put the black one in its place, hooking my fingers into a pair of her heels before I shut her closet.

I'm taking too long.

I go to her bathroom to grab her toothbrush and her lotion and I'm assaulted by the smell. I didn't realize I would have to tell her to wash her damn clothes. If Stefan were to come in here, she'd be fucked.

I grab her jeans, her underwear and her bra, but her shirt isn't here.

_Really, Elena?_

I stride back into her room, throwing everything on the bed as I pass by. I stop only once I'm in front of her dresser. There's no way she did the same thing I did with my shirt.

She couldn't have. It won't be there.

I kneel down and open the bottom drawer, the one she doesn't use. The top one is full of all the colorful and racy undergarments she wears under her ruse of innocent clothing. The second is filled with striped and impractically tiny pajama shorts and lacy camisoles. I love both those drawers.

I reach into the far right corner and lift up the sweaters and her clothes with paint on them that she won't get rid of. I smell the blood before I see it.

I'm not sure what to do.

I should wash it. He'll find it and she doesn't want him to.

I don't move. She knew what she was doing when she put it in here. She had her reasons and she knew the risk. She decided it was worth it.

Fuck it. I'm not touching it.

I lay the sweaters and the shirts back so there's no evidence that I witnessed her secret, closing the drawer before I let myself think about all that shirt means. I can't accept that, that's not what she's telling me. That's not what she's doing.

I grab both bags and her guilty clothes and head downstairs, starting a load in the washing machine before I bolt out the front door. I leave it unlocked because I don't actually have a key, though that kind of still blows me away. Even if I did I wouldn't lock it anyways. I'm tired of replacing broken things and I'm tired of fixing locks. The next thing that breaks is staying broken.

I'm eerily thankful of the memorial service because the streets are empty and I don't have to slow down or stop until I approach the parking lot. I get there much faster than I should have and even manage to make up a little of the extra time I spent in her room. Thank you Pastor Young.

I'm barely stopped before I grab the bags and kick open the door, my other hand dialing her before my foot hits the ground.

One ring.

"Damon, thank God. Are you here?"

"I'm here, I'm here. Where are you?"

"I'm in the basement bathroom."

Her voice is weak and shaky and she sounds horrified. Girl has had one hell of a day. And what's with all the damn bathrooms? Can't the next breakdown be at a spa so we can at least get a massage out of it?

She gasps and I hear a rattling in the background on her end. Fucking great.

"Is that you at the door?"

"Not yet."

The handle-jiggler starts to knock and she freaks.

"I'm sorry, there's someone in here," she calls out in the most scared voice I've heard her use when not facing an immortal hybrid.

Damn it, she's about two seconds from losing it and I'm about five seconds away because the place is packed and I can't actually move any faster without getting people's attention.

"Damon, hurry," she quivers at me and fuck it, I'm running. I don't even care that I have a purse and a dress over my shoulder and that if I would have seen myself doing this shit a few years ago I would have kicked my own ass. It's Elena and she needs me. I'm running.

My predator instincts go on alert as I get close to her and survey the area where she's trapped, looking for blind corners and hiding places so we don't get ambushed. She picked a good spot, nice and out of the way where you don't have to deal with normal foot traffic.

It's little things like this that make up the fabric of why I love her. She's so fucking smart and she's a natural vampire. She'll be fine once we get her diet straightened out and a part of me can't wait to give her this blood bag.

I turn the corner to head down the stairs, taking it in and breaking it down. The door to her is on my right, about five shallow steps away. It looks like it's a single stall so she should be able to lock the door without taking hostages, and we've got a front and rear exit so we're not backed into a corner. Couldn't have picked it better myself.

I can't see what's at the end of the hallway around the corners, but I'm less concerned about what's behind those corners than I am about what's sitting on the sofa staring at me. Tito is here, hanging out like I just walked into his damn living room.

I need to get her out of here.

"Stalking small town funerals?" I smirk at him, letting him know I remember him and that I'm a bad ass he doesn't want to fuck with. Especially today.

Elena hears me and the door opens, and I've never seen her so relieved as when she said my name and took what I handed her. God, she can't keep doing this to me.

She pokes her head out so she can lie to her audience and is actually fairly convincing when she says all sweet and embarrassed, "Sorry, I spilled coffee all over my dress," before quickly retreating back into the bathroom so he can't see that "coffee" is actually code for "blood." Atta girl.

She throws me a look of panic before she shuts the door and I try to smile at her, letting her know that it's going to be fine and we're going to get out of this. I just need her to hurry up so I can get her the hell away from this guy.

The door clicks and busy-body is already in my face, trying to size me up and intimidate me.

Fucking hilarious.

"We have not met. I'm Connor... Jordan…"

I'm offered his gloved hand, extended out to me like he's not a serial killer with a poisoned grip. Yeah, we need to get the fuck out of here.

"Damon. Germ-a-phobe."

* * *

**A/N: Please r/r guys, always love to hear your thoughts. I have been just blown away by the response to the story, and can't wait to share what I have in store! Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	6. No Good Deed

**A/N: Ah ha, my little darlings! How wonderful you all are! High fives to all reviewers and followers and favoriters, y'all are the stuffs in my oreos. Enjoy!**

**Episode point of reference: Elena is currently in the basement bathroom of the church at the Memorial, and Damon has just arrived with her fresh clothes and is talking with Connor Jordan outside the restroom.**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**No Good Deed**

He's here.

There are not words adequate enough to describe the overwhelming sense of relief at just _knowing_ he's on the other side of the door. I can't believe he really came. I wasn't sure he would, not after everything that happened at the Grill. And how he left. Hurt and angry.

I unzip the garment bag and shake my head in disbelief. He actually brought me the exact dress I was going to wear today, but didn't because I changed my mind at the last minute. How does he do that? I might have left it balled up in my chair which would explain it, but I thought I hung it back up?

Either way he put it in the bag because he's _Damon_ and he's _perfect_, so I know he was in my closet.

I can't contain my blush. My blue Miss Mystic Falls pageant dress was in this bag.

I stop myself from thinking of that crazy day and try to focus on this one. I need to change. Fast. I don't know who this guy is outside, but Damon doesn't like him and that's all I need to know. We need to get out of here and he's in a hurry to do it. Never a good sign.

I shove my ruined dress and all the bloody napkins into my purse and I'm overcome with gratitude. I'm so thankful he had the presence of mind and the foresight to not only bring a bag, but to bring the biggest one I own. The man even packed my toothbrush and my lotion.

Which means he was in my bathroom…

I stop and look in the mirror.

All of my clothes, _except_ my shirt. I meant to wash them before I left, but I forgot. I wonder if he noticed. I hope he didn't find it. I kind of wish he did.

I shake my head and wipe everything down one final time before I flush the toilet in my sendoff. There's no way he found my shirt. He couldn't have.

I open the door and I see him and everything is already so much better. He's right next to me and I'm safe. He won't let anyone hurt me.

"I'm so sorry that took so long," I say as I shut the door behind me.

His scent sneaks in on my next breath and I'm suddenly calmer. That's what I needed; that forbidden balm for my over heightened everything. I feel, but don't see, as he takes my hand and squeezes and I know peace, immediately stronger as I slide my fingers through his. Damon just grips me back tighter and I can still hear his words from this morning. He won't let go.

"Well, enjoy your stay," he smarts off to our intruder. "We love visitors and the scenery is to die for."

I squeeze his hand in warning, far from the mood where I can deal with him picking a fight with a suspicious stranger because he doesn't like how they looked at me. That, or because he's _Damon_ and if he's not drinking or screwing than he must be trying to kick someone's ass that could probably kill him, if I didn't beg that they wouldn't.

My threat is pointless. He's already brought his other hand to his mouth in mock indignation while I stare at him in shock.

"Funeral pun, too soon. Sorry," he says without a shred of remorse and I bolt at my opening, dragging him along behind me before someone gets eaten. It won't be us.

I listen as we leave and I can hear the man walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. _Not_ following us. The lock clicks with finality as I climb the stairs, sending a strangled breath I didn't know I was holding huffing out of me.

We reach the top step and I move to continue down the hallway to my right, out to the courtyard and air and away from bathrooms with locks, but I don't get far. Damon pulls against our joined hands, sending me tripping and stumbling at the new direction as he ducks us into an empty Sunday School classroom.

I look at the tiny tables and the half height chairs, and I'm six years old.

I'm sitting in the corner with Caroline and we're talking and laughing, but I can't remember about what. I try to remember. It was probably about who gets to marry Zack Morris and who gets Slater and whether we were mad enough to engage Bonnie to Screech because she accidently tore Caroline's new Lisa Frank folder.

I'm young. I'm innocent. I'm pure.

I think the whale that swallowed Jonah is the scariest thing I've ever imagined and my future is perfect and clean. My parents will stand and cry and clap as I graduate, cheering for me as I cross the stage and turn my tassel with pride. I'll fall in love while away at college, and my father will grant his permission and his blessing before he walks me down the aisle and lifts my veil. I'll have sons and daughters and grandchildren, and I'll die an old lady, surrounded by family.

A black lapel overtakes my vision and I'm fast forwarded to the present. I crumble forward under the evaporating swirl of my lost future, collapsing on to the shoulder that separates me from my past. A sob rips up and out of my chest and it feels like the first burst of lava before the volcano erupts.

He should step back and hide where he'll be safe. I'm Mount St. Helens and I can implode and explode all at once; the force of my blast and the weight of my ash laying waste to all that surrounds me for miles.

Instead, two strong arms enclose me as I cling to the black fabric and as soon as they're locked, something begins to hurt a little less and a little more.

Everything is so wrong. I'm not supposed to be here, be this person. I'm not supposed to feel the things I feel or do the things I do. I'm not supposed to crave blood and love my boyfriend's brother. I'm just…not. But I do.

And I shouldn't be in a church. It's wrong. God doesn't like people who do what I do and act how I act, feel how I feel. He doesn't condone murder or betrayal or lust and lies. He punishes them, those that are like me. Especially when they run.

But he's supposed to also be merciful and gracious and forgiving and when sinners repent, he saves them too. I just don't know how I'm going to be saved from this, because I'm not apologizing anymore for things I can't control and didn't ask for and that aren't my fault. I'm not doing it.

Oh my God.

I'm Jonah. Damon is the whale.

Then I remember the rest of the story and how God made the whale give Jonah back, and before I can stop myself I'm silently praying, "Please God, don't let him spit me out. Just don't let him spit me out."

My logic decides to kick back in and I realize what I'm praying and out comes another sob. Damon's just holding me, not saying anything. He doesn't really comprehend that I've finally gone insane.

I mean, look at what I've come to. I'm standing in an empty room with a man that's not mine, desperately holding to a smidgeon-psychotic and more-than-slightly narcissistic serial killer with blood under my fingernails and splotched in my hair. I'm praying to a deity that by all accounts has declared my soul eternally and irrevocably damned, asking that he not let Damon, who I've equated with a massive biblical fish, _spit me out._

I need to get the hell out of this church and right into a straight jacket.

And I know I'm about one more flashback-to-my-parents' funeral from screaming so loud I could shatter glass, throwing my hands up and fangs out and shouting "Screw it" before I proceed to eat the whole damn congregation so I can just go the fuck home.

I'm so tired.

He's still stroking my hair and I grip him harder, wishing I could melt into the lining of his suit where I'll just disappear forever and no one will know I'm there but him.

"I know you're tired, but it's almost over," he barely whispers.

No, Damon, it's not almost over. It's barely started. Fast forward 250 years and I bet there'll be another dark room with me crying, latched on to the man I'm too scared to really hold on to but that I won't let go of, while my "chosen" boyfriend is none the wiser and still nowhere to be found.

All I really want right now is to just let Damon carry me home, tuck me into bed next to my teddy bear and let him stand guard over me from his spot on my windowsill while I sleep away the rest of this horrible, stupid day. Why isn't that an option? I've been through hell, I've earned my rest. And I know he doesn't want to be here. He'd take me home in a second if I asked him to.

I wind my arms under and inside his jacket so I can hold him tighter against me and he feels so good. He's like cold water on a burn. Your brain knows it's not the best thing for it or the right thing to do, and that there's medicine in the cabinet. But it feels so damn good you just don't care, so you let the faucet flow.

I press impossibly closer so I can breathe him in and with my cheek against his heart my scattered brain panics and calms because it can only think, "Thank God he always wears black so he won't see I got mascara on his thousand dollar shirt."

That's it. I've lost it.

Go ahead whale, swallow me up. Because I fucking quit.

Just please don't spit me out.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

Where the fuck is my brother?

And why is that always the first thing I think when I'm alone with her? That's right, because it's not supposed to be me she calls for help when she's in trouble and it's not supposed to be me who comforts her while she breaks.

I squeeze her a little and lay a kiss on her hair, and she melts a little more against me while her nails cut into my back. Based on her breathing and inconsistent crying I've pinned down about five different emotions in the last two minutes alone, and I don't know what's going through her mind right now, but I can guess.

Another funeral. Just like her parents'.

We're in the same church where they held the service for the Gilberts. I was in town but staying out of sight and I still remember. The streets were empty except for a few black cars driving slowly in mourning and I remember wondering who the hell had died that the whole town practically shut down.

Mayor? Sheriff? Nope. Just the saintly parents of my girl, introducing her to the life of an orphan.

It actually really bothers me to know that while she was going through all that, I was here but nowhere near her. Probably for the best. She made it through and I would've made things so much worse for her, considering who I was at the time.

She'll make it through this too, but I'm sure she doesn't think that right now.

She's completely exhausted and I wonder if she got any sleep last night while being out in the woods. Most likely not. They're really loud when the animals and bugs get used to your presence and forget you're a predator. They chirp and bawk and scuffle and it's like nails on a chalkboard on repeat. I don't know what people see in camping.

She's also still starving because she still hasn't fed properly and she keeps throwing everything up. Locked in a building with hundreds of healthy, beating hearts? It's the last place she should be.

I really need to give her the blood bag, but it can wait until I get her home and she can feed in private. It's going to be one massive jolt to her system and she's immediately going to want to kill and fuck until she can't see straight and I can't let her do that in a church. No matter how sickly entertaining it would be to see unfold.

I lay another kiss on her and my hand cups the back of her neck under her hair so I can feel her skin. I'm so stupid, I shouldn't have touched her. I'm royally fucked now because after this morning all I can think about is how good she tastes and the shape her mouth makes when she comes.

I should be pissed. I should be gone. I shouldn't be formulating a side plan on how best to get her out of this room and into my bed.

I swear at any moment I'm going to be struck by lightning. What kind of a dick gets an erection while he holds a crying girl at a memorial service? Me apparently. But if I'm going to keep playing the role of Knight in Black-Armani Armor, I'm going to take the perks that come with it. The hero is supposed to get the girl. Stefan's white horse can take another lap for all I care.

Fuck. He's probably going to be here soon and I'm sure he'll find something to make her feel even more guilty about, or to find a way that makes her getting sick be all about him. She doesn't need that shit now. She needs blood and a bath and sleep.

Fuck this. We're going. I'm getting her out of here before he finds her and manages to make everything worse in the spectacular fashion that only he can pull off.

She sniffles and takes a deep shudder-filled breath to try to calm herself and I smile. She's going to be just fine.

I allow her two more shaky breaths before I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. She's a gorgeous wreck. Her make-up is smudged and there are black streaks on her cheeks, and her eyes are large and red, but not puffy. She looks so broken and defeated, but there's still fire. Always fire.

I swipe my thumb across her cheek to wipe away the tracks and her eyes flutter closed, staying still and quiet while I disappear her tears. She bites her bottom lip and I frown. I hate when she does that; it looks like it hurts. I barely tug on her offending lip and they part as she releases it, bringing my smile back. Her body always responds to me exactly how I want it to. I just wish her heart would.

I repress a sigh. I might as well go ahead and sell every home I have scattered across the earth. I'm never getting out of this town.

_Don't kiss her. Don't kiss her. Don't kiss her._

My heart and my body feign deafness to the insistent pleading of my mind and I lean down. My lips brush hers and she gasps, but doesn't retreat. I know I surprised her. I'm sure this is the last thing she thought I would be doing when I showed up here, but I can't help it. She settles and a small stream of air trickles back out before she presses up, and she's kissing me back.

I'm so in awe of her mouth and the way it molds itself seamlessly against mine. It knows exactly how to slide right into the space made for her so that we're layered and folded, supporting one another.

There isn't the urgency of this morning. This isn't "I want you" or "I need you".

This is "Save me" and I know.

This is why I don't leave and this is why I don't sell. It's so when I do flip the bird to this town it'll be with her by my side, complete with the wind in her hair from the top being down in my Camaro. It's so I can kiss her like this in every country I've ever lived in and in all the ones I haven't made it to yet. She's so young and there are so many places I want to show her, to share with her. I know she'll love them all.

I pull us apart slowly, but leave with one small kiss as a signature and a promise for the future. I just don't know when that future is. For a reason I don't want to think about too much, it's still not right and it's still not now. But we're closer, I can feel it.

She's not running, she's just letting me hold her and kiss her while she hides her face in my chest where she fits. I'd be more than happy to just stay here, all nice and hidden away, but we can't. I just heard Tito leave the bathroom and head towards the stairs we took, and I'm instantly jolted back into reality and a long list of To Do's.

-Get her safe.

-Get her home.

-Give her blood.

-Clean her up.

-Put her in bed (don't forget the bear).

-Move her clothes from the washer to the dryer.

-Start the load of dishes that Jeremy left in the sink.

-Stock her fridge with blood.

-Find my brother and cut out his liver with a grapefruit spoon.

Go.

"Is there anything else you need before we go?" I ask her quietly.

She shakes her head no and I thank God she's not fighting me for once. I don't know how I'm going to make myself pull into her driveway and not just keep going once I get her in my car, but I've got a full five minute drive to figure it out. First, I need to get her in the car and away from the blue-hair buffet.

I release her and step away so I can pick up her bag off the floor and I can see her wiping at her face out of the corner of my eye. I try not to chuckle. She doesn't need to, I already took care of it. And no one would ever even know that she had been crying. Her face is perfect.

"Come on, car's out front," I say and wait for her.

I want to reach for her, but I'm already pushing it today. But I still hope she'll hold my hand again. I like it when she does that. It feels comforting and easy and nice, especially now that I can feel her ring and how it fits with mine. Everything with her is so natural and so awkward. It's the flawless balance of peace and nerves, where you're never quite fully calm and always a little on edge. It's the only way I ever want to live. Or love.

"No…"

I freeze.

No.

Fucking _no_.

"No?" I try to say as calmly as possible.

She can't really be pulling this shit now.

She shows up at the Grill and accuses me of murder. She practically drains me dry, then dry humps my brains out while I happily explain what "multiple orgasms" means, and she repays me by screwing me over. Then she calls me in a blind panic and I rush to get here complete with traffic law breaking and bedroom scavenging.

I'm fucking _here_ and now it's, "Thanks for the wardrobe change and the seven minutes in heaven flashback. I think I'll go look for Stefan while you go back to jerking off and thinking about how we _didn't_ have sex, even though you knew I wanted to. Peace, fucker."

"I can't, Damon…"

I throw her bag back on the floor with more force than necessary and she jumps.

Here we fucking go.

"I can't leave," she bleats at me like it's going to work. She should know better.

"You can, you are, and we're going." I'm not taking no for an answer. Not today.

"People will notice if I'm not here…"

Oh, that fucking does it.

"Do you even know where he is?" I snap, getting in her face.

"No," she concedes, looking down. Great. Then her head snaps back up and I know I'm in trouble. "Do you?"

"Yeah," I smirk at her like the asshole I am. "He's not here."

_Easy. Calm down. It's not her fault your brother's a piece of shit and apparently you're the only one that sees it._

"I'm staying," she says while lifting her chin higher.

Fuck. I know that look. I just lost, but I'm not going down without a fight.

"You're stay-"

I stop. I can't even say it I'm so pissed off. I bite my tongue and try to hold it in, but it won't be contained.

"You do realize, Elena, that if you go into that service the only thing people are going to notice is the pile of bodies because the hot brunette just ate half the mourners before the pastor said his first 'Amen'?"

"Asshole," she calls me and storms out of the room.

I have half a mind to bow at her just to rile her up as she brushes past me, but I have some sort of a brain somewhere and I don't.

Yep, there she goes. Story of my life.

Fuck.

"Elena!" I call after her, grabbing her purse and blurring down the thankfully empty hallway.

I don't need to see her to know where she went, her perfume leaves a trail for me that's as easy to follow as the yellow brick road. I catch up to her just as she reaches the door to the courtyard and I shouldn't, but I grab her arm lightly above her elbow and try to stop her anyway.

She throws it back harder than I expected and catches me right in the ribs, actually knocking the breath out of me. It's going to take me a bit to adjust to her physical strength. I'm used to being able to let her hit me and punch me as much as she wants because I never felt a thing where she struck me. So not the case now. I could have probably dodged it if I really wanted, but she is actually pretty fast.

And I don't care, I deserved that. Fair is fair.

"Stupid goddamn whales," she mutters under her breath and blows out the door.

_What the fuck did she just say?_

I'm right behind her as she stomps outside, but her movements become less forceful and more careful the further we go. The ground is soft and she's wearing heels and she's sinking a little. She's also a little wobbly from being weak. I realize I can't even remember why I'm supposed to be mad at her and I don't care.

She's heading for a tree and I'm really hoping that this isn't where she wants to do this. Because we couldn't have done this inside, or in my car? Or here's an idea, how about at her fucking house?

I look around, but I don't see Tito. Good.

"Did you bring the blood bag?" she blurts out like "blood bag" and "vampire" aren't trigger words that bring forth hordes of collectible-and-not-sold-separately angry townsfolk, complete with pointy stakes and vervain.

"You want to say that a little louder," I tell her out of the corner of my mouth, reminding her to keep it down even though twelve of our biggest anti-fans just turned to dust like the bad-vamps in Buffy.

I reach into her bag to grab the blood and I see her dress. The top is soaked red and I didn't think to bring her a bra. I'm such a dick.

"Here," I say, handing it to her and she can't get the top off fast enough before she brings it to her mouth.

We're way too exposed but I actually think it might be more dangerous right now to try convincing her to wait, considering how she just shredded that bag.

Fuck it. No one's going to hurt her and even if they look they won't understand what they're seeing. Nothing a little compulsion can't fix anyways. Maybe I can get Elena to do it and then we can take care of two newbie lessons at once.

I'm not really worried about being caught anymore but I still put my hand on the tree above her, standing slightly in front of her so my body guards hers. At least this way she'll feel safe.

She closes her eyes and makes a breathy little moan as she starts to drink, immediately reminding how much zippers hurt and why I should be wearing underwear. But I'm not. Didn't have time and just forgot in my rush to get here.

No good deed ever goes unpunished. That's why I don't do good deeds.

Except this time may be worth it. She's drinking human blood and I know how good it feels, what a rush and high it is. I'm also 99% certain that any second she's going to cave to the euphoria and reach for my pants and I don't know if I have it in me to stop her twice in one day. Even if we are in front of a church for a memorial service for her dead acquaintances.

What the fuck?

I barely move in time to avoid it as she lurches forward, spitting up all the blood she managed to swallow.

"Elena," my worried mouth says as I take the bag from her dripping hands.

Why can't she drink this? What the hell is going on?

"I can't…it tastes like…"

_Stay calm. It's fine. She's fine._

I wipe away the blood from her face so it's on me instead of her and I want to be sick. How am I supposed to take care of her when she can't keep anything down? I don't know what to do, what to give her. And I don't know what to tell her to make her feel less scared.

I don't have the answer and I thought I did. How could I have been wrong about this?

"What's wrong with me?" she whimpers in the voice that makes me feel two feet tall because for once I don't know and I don't want to tell her that. But I have to.

"I don't know," I say and I hate every letter of it. "Maybe it's your doppelganger blood. You're rejecting the transition…" I tell her but I know that's bullshit as I look her over.

Katherine was fine. Katherine is fine. For once, this has nothing to do with her being a doppelganger.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

Okay, this is going to stop. Now.

"No, you're not dying," I say more frustrated than I should, but maybe she'll believe me. Maybe I'll believe me more if she does. "You just need to drink from the vein," I hear myself say and that's it. That's the answer and the only door she's going to get. Done.

She's going to be fine. There's still another way. My panic starts to ebb which I love because I hate that feeling, to an unnatural level of despising it. I don't fucking panic.

My brain kicks back into To Do mode and I'm suddenly trying to figure out who I'm going to grab for her to drink from. Where's that lurky quarterback she dumped when you need him? Something possessive in me growls when I think about her teeth in his skin where she had them in mine, but I'll have to deal with that later. She needs to feed. Now.

"No, I can't risk killing anyone, Damon."

I look at her as she says it and for the first time, I believe her. She's terrified.

I might have been wrong. Maybe it's not about Stefan or what it would do to their relationship for her to start drinking from humans. Maybe it's not about her choosing between what I wanted for her as opposed to what he did.

It's actually what she wants. She's scared to kill and she's scared of herself. That's all this is. Just fear. _Not _obligation to my brother.

I can fix fear, no problem. But it's going to be hard and she's not going to like it. I don't even want to think about how much further this is going to drive her away from me and back towards him. I can't think about it. It's not about me, it's about her.

I fucking hate good deeds and doing "the right thing."

"Maybe I'm better off dead," she says and I snap, grabbing the top of her shoulders hard enough that her wandering eyes focus on me.

"Don't you think like that," I fire off because I'm not going to allow her to even consider what she's hinting at.

I've seen her dead twice and I'm not stupid enough to think she'll come back to me a third time. She's immortal and she's staying that way.

"Elena," I say to make her stop and focus again. "You'll be fine."

I believe myself now, but she doesn't. She still looks so scared and lost and if it didn't break my heart I'd probably find it adorable.

She has the most uncanny ability to break me down into nothing and then puff me back up so I've never felt stronger. And not that I've ever been confused about who I am, but no one has ever made me feel like a man like she does. It's dangerously addicting.

I tuck her hair behind her ear and my eyes stumble over her mouth. There's still the slightest bit of blood on her chin and though it made her sick, it's still intoxicating to me. Not to mention sexy as all hell.

I bet if I kissed her I could taste them both and all I would have to do is drag my tongue…

_Stop._

I realize I'm staring at her lips and grinning like I know a secret, which I do, and she's looking at me like I'm completely insane. Like she's scared I'm going to kiss her. And I can't tell if she's more scared that she wants me to, or just that people could see. Elena likes our secrets to remain just that.

I know it's not the ideal time for a "romantic moment", but it's not like I planned any of this. And yeah, I probably shouldn't be looking at her like she's naked, especially considering I'm only here because she threw up everywhere and almost got me the second time, which is now all over my hands. I should be fairly disgusted, but I'm not. I'm just turned on because I got the call and I got here first. Again.

What the hell is wrong with me today? She fucking chose him.

I make myself pull my hand away from her and take a half frustrated, half apologetic breath. I consider telling her that I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what all for. But before I can find the words, the church bells chime and our bubble breaks.

She looks, I look, but we don't look together and I know that even though my hand is on her arm and she's right in front of me, she's already running away.

"I have to get back inside," she says and I'm so disappointed that I don't even fight her.

I hate those words. Every man alive hates those words. And then she's gone. Walking away, back towards the church she shouldn't be in and leaving me here to clean up the mess. Same shit, different day.

I reach down and pick up my failed rescue plan and shove it into the bag with her bloody clothes and I see him.

Fuck.

How much did he see? How much did he hear? Normally, I would've noticed him and I probably would have today if I wasn't so wrapped up in her. I really don't like it when he gets the drop on me. That's not how this relationship works and he knows it.

What I don't understand is that she had to have seen him before she walked away… But she didn't go to him. Why didn't she run right to him?

I'm not dealing with this bullshit right now. I need to get inside before she rips out someone's throat.

But apparently I don't get a choice because he's headed right for me and he looks to be super thrilled that he just walked in on me and his girlfriend up against a tree with my unworthy hands all over her.

"Oh, great…"

* * *

**A/N: Alright guys, little spoilery - I know a lot of people love the Stefan and Damon scene where he drops the bloodshare bomb, and I had every intention on including it in this chapter, but it was already pushing my mental capabilities. So it got bumped, to the very next chapter where we will pick right up with Damon and Stefan and continue our windy track through the episode. Many things planned, hope you stay to enjoy!**

**Thank you endlessly for reading, truly!**

**-Goldnox**


	7. My Cross To Bear

**A/N: Okay, first let me just apologize. Never have I gone this long without an update on a story I'm focusing on. Unfortunately, Macomber (the God of creativity) decided to make an unannounced trip to Korea and left me behind to fend for myself while terribly sick with writer's block. I will make this up to you guys, believe me. **

**HUGE SHOUT-OUT to Trogdor19, and you all should PM her to death in thanks because this chapter would not be here without her. She stayed on my ass the whole way through this struggle, beta'd like nothing I've ever seen, and I only made it through under her colorful threats and endless encouragement. If you haven't read either Desperate Love or Inevitable, please do. You will be so glad you did.**

**On to the story! **

**Episode point of reference: We are still at the church for the memorial, Elena just yaked up the blood bag by the tree and headed inside. We're kicking off right where we ended, ripe with Salvatore brother tension. Enjoy!**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**My Cross To Bear**

Come on, Captain Hair-gel. Give me your best shot.

"What's in the bag, Damon?"

Fuck me sideways, my brother gets dumber by the minute. Gee Stefan, let me think… Its lollipops and nail polish. No, wait. It's my go-go boots and nipple tassels for my night job as a dancer. You know good and damn well what's in the bag because you saw me shove it in there. Prick.

"Mid-service snack, church always gets me hungry. The whole Blood of Christ thing, ya know," I say, winking at him to see how long it'll take before he swings.

Too bad he's not going for the bait. I could use a good fight right about now. But, no. Dear brother is just going to glare at me all frowny faced and with his brow furrowed so low I'm surprised he can even still see me.

Fuck this. I don't have time for this bullshit. Elena just strolled into her own personal all-you-can-eat buffet and I need to get inside before her fangs start saying "Yes, I'll have one of everything please."

"I brought it for Elena."

"You really that intent on having your way?"

I don't know why the hell he's smiling just below the surface of his "I'm just humoring you because there are witnesses and Elena can hear me" face. He probably thinks I showed up here and forced it on her like some drug pushing dealer.

Thanks for thinking so highly of me, brother.

I wonder how he'd feel if he actually knew this was all her idea. She called me. She asked me to bring her the damn blood bag. And she's the one that ripped it open in front of anyone who cared to see. Of course it must be all my doing, because I'm a dick.

And what the hell is he really trying to say by "my way"? I'm normal, he's the one with the damn issues.

"It's not my way, it's the only way," I snap.

I'm so sick and tired of all this "alternative lifestyle is the key to success" bullshit. If that were the truth it wouldn't fucking be an "alternative lifestyle" in the first place.

"If she hurts someone she'll be desperate to turn the guilt off. Maybe even desperate enough to turn off her humanity."

Who the fuck does he think he's talking to?

My mind immediately begins the rant I don't have time to hit him with.

_1. Don't get in my face like you have any right to play Brother Superior. I'm older, I'm stronge, and I can still kick your ass any time I like. And I can do it right here in front of all your little friends. Show a little respect._

_2. Don't fucking talk to me like I don't know her. I've spent more time with her than you have thanks to your summer playing Wonder Wolf's bitch. I've carried her, cooked for her, shopped for her. I've buried bodies, dried her tears, cleaned blood off of her and tucked her in complete with her fucking teddy bear. _

_If anyone understands her, it's me. I'm the one who has been here with her every day. And especially on the days that you weren't, which equal more than the total of your presence put together._

_3. Just be honest for once in your miserable life and admit the truth: you can't handle the fact that she transitioned. Because if she's not human she'll no longer be the embodiment of what you really wanted: Katherine, with a soul. _

_And here's another thing, asshole. She's going to flip her switch. It's going to happen. Not today or tomorrow, but one day she'll do it. And on that day you'll have two fucking choices; you can find a way to fix her, or you can follow her over the edge. But if you dare to abandon her I'll rip your damn arms off so you can never touch her again._

_Want to know the bitch of the whole thing? I don't fucking care. I know I'll still love her when she's crazy and blood thirsty and dancing on graves. It's not what I want, but I'll still love her._

_And that's why you're no longer worthy of her in my eyes. _

_Because I know you won't._

Time for a wakeup call.

"What and become a ripper?"

His face falls and there it is. Yeah, that's what I thought. I was right and I'm starting to hate it and that's so infuriating I can't even see straight.

"I can't let her be anything like me."

Damn it. I hate him, but it still sucks all the ass in the world that my baby brother loathes himself so much that he's actually purposefully warping his girlfriend's way of life. But he's not the only one he hates and we both know it.

"Or, God forbid, she's anything like me. 'Cause that's really what you're thinking."

He doesn't say anything. Thanks a lot, brother.

"She's going to go off the rails eventually anyways, Stefan. So the faster we can make it happen, the sooner we can get her back on track."

"She's strong, if we help her she can survive-"

"She's starving, Stefan," I whisper forcefully. "She hasn't been able to keep blood down for days."

Damn it. It is not my job to tell him this shit. He would have already known if he would show up to life and pay attention to the girl he claims to love. How could he not have noticed? She looks horrible and I had her hunger status pegged before I even saw her face at the Grill.

"What are you talking about? She told me she was fine."

My hands instinctively know how to respond to that word and they curl into fists eager to meet his face.

_Fine._

I can't believe he even said it.

"Then she lied," I tell him and I don't even try to hide the smugness in my voice.

She's feeding him her version of reality just like he always does to her and I get the actual truth. Fuck it. He wants the truth, I'll give it to him.

"Your four-legged protein shake was a bust, the juice box was a no-go. She can't even keep my blood down."

Go ahead, ask. I'm begging you.

"She drank from you?"

You bet she did, brother, and I know she hasn't drank from you otherwise she would've known what I meant when I said it was "personal". You had her alone in the woods, she's on overdrive, you probably haven't gotten laid since you were off running with Klaus and you guys weren't ripping each other's veins out?

Something clicks and I'm even more furious than I was before. It's the blood. He can't handle the blood. Not that I want them drinking off each other, but I don't want her denied either. Blood sharing for vampires is like adding another sex toy in the bedroom. It's intimate and fun as all hell and it more than triples the pleasure, which she now knows.

Dick. I bet he makes her have sex in the dark, only after undressing under the covers where he can't see her so she's nice and ashamed.

If I didn't have to get inside…

Inside.

Elena.

Fuck.

I don't have time for this dick measuring shit right now.

"Oops," I say and dart my eyes so sarcastically it's almost painful. "Did I say that out loud?"

I slide off and leave him in shock.

Good.

Shit.

Not good.

He knows now and he is going to go after her about it. Damn it, she doesn't need this right now and I just got her in a whole lot of hot water with him. I normally love rubbing this stuff in his face, but that was stupid. I probably just hurt her just as much as him because I just betrayed a secret. I sold her out and now she's about to be guilt tripped and yelled at.

Could this day get any worse?

I head to my car to drop off her bag. I'll give it back to her later and I'm not carrying it around all day. I do have some dignity left. I think. I throw it in the passenger seat and slam the door, my eyes catching the sight of blood all over my hands. I sigh, shaking my head. I should have tossed her stubborn ass over my shoulder and taken her home the second I had her out of that bathroom but I didn't and now she's worse than ever and I have no idea where that hunter went.

Yeah, this day could get a lot worse.

I head back into the church, but I duck into the Men's room before crossing into the sanctuary so I can wash my hands. I turn on the sink and let the water coat my skin, erasing the evidence of my failure as I look in the mirror. I hate having her blood on my hands and I don't want to see it. It's not really her blood, but it feels like it is.

My mind flashes back to this morning when I was doing the same thing, but at least that time she was next to me and topless for half of it. I shake my head out of memory and stare myself into the man she needs me to be. I turn off the water, reaching without thought to dry my hands and quieting the voice that is wishing she was next to me again.

She's not far, but I can't find her in there with the walls between us. Her human heartbeat was always so easy to pick out, even in crowds. But that's gone and her vampire heart beats slow and quiet and it's disguised in the sea of humans. There's nothing worse than this feeling, knowing she's close and out of sight and that I can't hear her. I never realized how much I relied on it before, that one simple assurance of her safety. I need it now.

She's weak and she's tired and there's a predator here that's not me.

My ears prickle on the voice of Carol Lockwood saying her name and my hand is on the doorknob before I remember telling my feet to move. I open the door to the sanctuary and all I see is brown hair down a slim back, her black skirt flirting with me as she makes her way up the aisle.

She's stumbling and it takes all my restraint not to go sweep her into my arms and carry her to safety like I've done countless times before.

I busy my limbs to keep me in place and my finger touches water before I cross myself in a silent prayer.

_May my lips bring her comfort,_

_My thoughts for her alone._

_My body is for her bidding,_

_My shoulder for her peace._

_And may my heart love her as it has none before, for there will never be another, as long as I shall live._

I wonder what God thinks of my version over his. That and of a damned creature blessing himself in a supposedly sacred place. I bet he's laughing his ass off and thinking how satisfying it'll be to watch me burn.

Bring it on, oh Holy One.

"I don't know why that always makes me smile," I slip out to eavesdropping ears, daring for any of them to make a comment about my unexpectedly religious gesture because if anyone else ever heard what I just prayed my reputation would be ruined forever.

"She doesn't look so good…" I say, taking the seat next to my brother.

I'm being more than kind. She looks like any second she's going to collapse and desiccate. This is getting out of control and she's right next to Carol. Any second those exquisitely lethal fangs of hers are going to strike and I'm going to be putting another body in the ground while the town starts elections for Mob boss replacement.

But she's not lunging…

Her face is clear and she's holding on…

And there goes Carol, safely away and no idea how close she just came to being reunited with her husband.

That's my girl. A fucking warrior.

"Maybe you should have told me she was rejecting all food sources," Stefan grumbles at me.

I love how he's blaming me for this shit. She should have told him, not that she should have needed to. He should have known.

Screw him. He's not pushing his guilt on to me because she had to come asking for my help.

"Jealousy's beneath you, brother," I lie with a smirk.

"Oh, bite me."

Nice one, Stefan. Real original.

He's acting just like he did when we were kids and Father brought home a new Thoroughbred for us. Stefan wanted to ride it first, but Father said I should because I was older. And in typical Stefan fashion, he proceeded to pout and be a little bitch about it.

I roll my shoulders and stretch out my neck, recalling how as soon as Father was out of sight I went back for him. He laughed loud and clear as we tested its speed, tearing up dirt and carving new paths through the plantation fields. He loved that damn horse and I pretty much gave it to him in the end.

That's not going to happen this time. I focus on Elena instead. She's shifting, she's fidgeting and her voice is shaky. I wonder if she's thinking about her parents' funeral. I wonder if she had to speak then, too. I really hope she didn't.

Stefan's shooting me a look like he's asking how long we're going to let her suffer up there before we go and rescue her and it makes me want to punch him in the face. If it wasn't for him I'd already have her home and in bed next to that damn bear.

"The worst day…of loving someone…"

God, she's breaking. I can see it from here, any second she's going to start crying.

_Come on, Elena. Keep it together._

Her eyes find mine and the room disappears.

"Is the day that you…lose them…"

Her voice breaks at the end, along with a piece of my heart.

_She means her family_, I tell myself.

_She means Stefan._

_She doesn't mean me._

I hope she doesn't mean me.

She can't think she's lost me. I've promised I wouldn't leave and I've vowed to never let go, but I wonder if she believes me. I wouldn't necessarily blame her. I have tried to leave and I have tried to let go, though she doesn't know that.

I hope.

I have more than enough reasons to go, but none of them ever seem strong enough to overpower the one reason to stay.

Who am I kidding? She's not talking about letting me go. I would never be so lucky to be hers to begin with.

My hands will never be clean enough and that will always be my cross to bear.

Reason and morality shift; my instincts to shred and destroy and suck blood from life igniting in a surge. I catch them before they betray me, but my fangs are pushing to be released and my eyes are tingling. I see it register on her face the same instant it reaches me: blood and a lot of it.

I know Caroline and Tyler caught the scent of it thanks to their whispers and Stefan did too. He's holding his breath and I've never seen his jaw so tight. There's a steady drip in the back of the room that I hadn't caught before, I was too distracted by Elena. But I know she can hear it; the steady metronome of temptation chiming away.

"Nobody move," I say with quiet command. I don't have to speak any louder than a murmur to know that those that need to hear, will. "Don't turn around. It's a trap."

All of our backs are exposed and we can't defend ourselves without revealing who we are.

Right now all I can think is that her heart is exposed, flimsily protected by lace and cotton and not me. She's a clean target and I actually have to push all my body weight into the wood bench just to keep myself in place.

There's no way she's going to hold with this much blood in the air. We're swimming in it.

"Elena, can you hear me?" I say at the same volume as before, but my tone gentles.

Her head dips in the slightest of nods and thank God she somehow understands what I'm saying. She's being pushed well past the point of what little control she had and we're one human-blood-bait over my threshold of tolerable-Elena-endangerment.

"Listen to my voice, Elena. You're okay. Just breathe." Her chest expands and contracts as she unsteadily pulls in air. "Good, you're doing great and you're going to be okay," I tell her. "Just keep breathing and don't move. I'll be right there."

Another nod.

Time to go. I really hope I don't get killed the second I move to go get her, or maybe I should hope to get killed because then the hunter will go and she'll be safe.

Fuck me, when did I become a martyr? I've got to stop hanging around my brother.

I don't find out if today's the day of my second and final death. As soon as I begin to rise I feel Stefan's hand on my shoulder and he's pushing me down with all his strength as he stands in my place.

_Really?_ Now's the time to play the jealousy game? Give me a fucking break. He's in no position to play hero. He's affected by the blood almost as much as she is.

Her eyes are locked on something she can see, but I can't because it's behind me. Whatever it is, it has her undivided attention.

"Elena, you still with me?"

She's not. It must be the blood she sees, or whoever it's coming from. Stefan's about ten feet away, but I doubt she knows he exists.

"Elena, focus. You can do this, just listen to my voice. I know you can hear me, just keep breathing. This will all be over in just a minute. Just stay with me Elena…"

"I…um…" she mutters into the microphone.

She's trying so hard to keep it together, but she's never going to make it. She probably has no idea where she is, other than in a room with what she's craving. I doubt she can even find my voice over the thrum of hearts in here. This is the worst place she could ever be.

Her face sharpens and her focus becomes pure, her eyes darkening. She found her threat and he's directly above and behind me.

So he's in the balcony…

I'm going to kiss her senseless the next time I get the chance, just for telling me exactly what I need to know without having to say a word. Stefan reaches her and she's jolted back to earth. Her hand is on his chest, but more in a way that looks like she wants distance, than not. But she still lets him put his arms around her and lead her away.

I'm going to beat my brother within an inch of his life. He's not shielding her. She's still fully exposed and an easy target. He served in the damn military, he knows how this shit works. And what the hell is he doing? He should be getting out of here through the side door and he's walking her back towards the rows of Lunchables?

Fuck. That was the only chance we had of getting her out of here and he just blew it. To anyone else it would be perfectly acceptable for her to be losing it right now. The girl is at a damn funeral every other weekend and everyone in this town knows her story. We could've played the distraught orphan card without a hitch, but no. My brother gets to put another punch in his "Dumbest Person Walking the Planet" card because he's keeping her trapped in hell.

God, I wish Ric was here. I really need just one other person to have my back that has a brain and is not a total fuck up.

Why is he sitting her next to Matt and Jeremy? His petty jealousy is putting her in more danger and if he doesn't want her to feed on humans he shouldn't be shoving them under her nose. I give it thirty seconds before she tries to rip her brother's throat out.

Good fucking job, Stefan.

"The blood…Stefan, the blood. I can smell it, there's so much…"

"Hey, it's alright. Just remember what we talked about. Focus, push back. Come on, you can do this," he tells her.

I don't even care he's stealing my words and I'm not going to wonder just exactly what they've been talking about and what he told her. I'm not. All I care about is that she doesn't try to eat her brother. That's the only thing that matters.

"What's wrong with her?"

Fuck you, quarterback. Don't act like she's not a person standing right next you. And if one more person uses the word "wrong" when talking about her, I don't care who they are, they're fucking dead.

"She's hungry, she hasn't fed," brother dearest replies instead.

I really hope she didn't just pick up on the fact that he knows she's been lying…

"So, get her out of here," the asshole who apparently does have a brain says.

"We can't, there's somebody watching us."

Eureka, moron.

That's it. He screwed up every chance of getting her out and safe and he totally fucked us. I don't have a choice. Time for plan B, as in Bad Ass.

"I'm gonna go rip his head off now," I tell Stefan, though he's still rows in front of me.

"You do that, Damon, and you risk exposing all of us."

I don't give a shit what he thinks. I don't care about being exposed. I'll compel this whole congregation if I have to. What I want is the certainty that there is not a stake being pointed at Elena's heart.

"Well, I think the risk will be slightly diminished when I, you know, rip his head off."

"Stefan, I'm losing it…"

God, she sounds bad. I don't know how much more she can take. She's begging for help and he's not doing shit.

"You have ten seconds before I go old fashioned on the new guy…"

I don't know if she even cares that I'm about to kill someone, a testament to how bad this is really getting. She hasn't uttered a word in protest.

"Don't do it, Damon. Please…"

Nice try Stefan. Wrong person asking. And you're begging the wrong guy.

"3, 2, 1. Bye…"

Time to kick some ass. I take a step and am ready to roll when Matt's voice slaps me in the face.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," he rattles off in a whisper. "Elena, feed from me."

My head whips around before I can help it. I know my hearing is perfect, but I can't have heard that right.

"It's okay, everyone will think you're upset. Just feed from me."

Ric, I don't know if you just possessed Donovan or how you pulled that shit off, but I owe you buddy. And if Stefan even tries to tell her no, I don't know what I'm going to do because he's looking at Meals on Wheels like he wants to kill him for even offering. I'm not even sure if it's because he's a human, or because Matt had her first and he doesn't want her mouth back on his neck.

Reality check, that's how this shit works. I don't like it any more than the fact that my blood wasn't good enough for her, but I'm dealing with it. Grow up.

I'm convinced. There must be a God because Stefan's actually handing her over.

Shit, I need to be next to her. She won't be able to stop and if she kills him she's going to freak and then we're all going to be dead.

I really hate that she has to do this here. This is going to be like having sex for the first time, but in front of a room full of people. And that's exactly what she's going to want to do as soon as she's done. I can't believe how royally fucked up her whole transition has been. Everything that could have gone wrong, has, and we're about to add two more checks to that list.

I hear her small hiss before I catch the whisper of puncturing flesh and she's doing it. She struck on his left because she's clever enough to remember that she needs to be hidden, her predator instincts flawless in their knowledge of how to use her prey as a safeguard. It just makes me love her even more.

Her form is perfect. All anybody sees or knows is that Matt's holding her.

Holy hell is she sexy when she's feeding. She's making that same riding and thrusting motion she did against my hand and I'll be damned if it isn't like a shock of electricity to my cock.

And she's not shredding him, she's just letting it flow into her on its own under her easy encouragement. She's pulling exactly how I do, how I would have showed her to, how she's supposed to. I wonder if Stefan's feeling the relief that I am now that we know she's not a ripper. You never have the answer to that question until it's too late. And I didn't think she would be, but I had to accept the possibility.

My body stiffens as the countdown clock strikes. She needs to stop. She's fed for long enough that if she takes anymore that she'll be in danger of killing him.

Shit.

Stefan's not stopping her. He probably doesn't remember the timeline and how quickly it shifts, not that he ever really figured it out or probably ever noticed when he was busy rearranging appendages.

If he doesn't stop her in two seconds…

I can't believe what's happening.

She's letting go?

She stopping herself?

I can't even comprehend it. That shit does not happen.

Damn it if she isn't the best vampire I've ever seen and I'm swelling with pride over her, for her. I don't know how I'm going to make her understand that she's a walking miracle, but I'm going to find a way. She deserves to know how amazing she is and she's going to. And I know she really needs it after the horror fest of today.

"Thank you," I hear her whisper and I'm in pure awe. Only Elena could be deadly and gracious at the same time and so seamlessly.

Here comes test number two.

She's a little turned on from the rush, though not anything like she was this morning. But still. She wants and she's back in Stefan's arms and in another second she'll be removing his clothes. And that's why she shouldn't be feeding in a fucking church.

"The blood, I can still smell it… It's got to be April. We have to help her."

I know it's Elena, but is she really that concerned with the life of some girl and not how fast she can get naked? 'Cause…that's not what happened this morning. She should already be wrapped around my brother if her reaction to Matt's blood came even a tiny bit close to how she responded to mine…

What the fuck?

"Elena, we can't risk it," I hear him say.

Seeing her feed must have turned his logic back on because for once, he's right. She needs to stay put until I can figure out how to distract this damn hunter so she can slip out the door.

"Then I'm going to do it," she snaps at him.

I can't help but smile. I love hearing her putting him in his place and declare confidence in herself, even if I don't want her going after the human bait.

Oh fucking hell, what is Tyler doing? Boy Wonder's babbling about team sports? Stake me, please. Damn day just keeps getting worse and worse.

Wait, there's no way he's actually trying to draw the hunter in. If he is then this is probably the only time I've been glad I didn't let Vicky kill him in that parking lot, especially considering the dipshit almost killed me. And unless this hunter is packing something that can remove a head or a heart, he's not killing Tyler. This may actually work…

Look who else has a fucking brain today.

I hear the slide of a gun being racked and I know what's going to happen only a moment before it does.

That fucker has a rifle. And he had it pointed at Elena.

The shot goes off with a blast that doesn't begin to match my rage, the sound bouncing around the room before the screaming starts. Tyler drops instantly and he could be dead but I couldn't care less. I can hear my target packing up above me and Elena will be safe next to Stefan for now.

I'm out of my seat in a second, ready to claim my kill.

That son of a bitch just picked a fight over the wrong girl and he has no idea how fucking dead he's about to be.

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**A/N: Thank you all for reading, and please review as I am always in awe and so appreciative of your thoughts! And click that little button to follow, because TRUST ME, YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS WHAT'S GOING TO COME NEXT! **

**-Goldnox**


	8. The Turning Point

**A/N: Alrighty my sweets, here we are! Thanks to all for reading and reviewing, I still can't believe the response this little story has received. Truly unbelievable!**

**THANK YOU TROGDOR19 FOR BEING THE BEST BETA, JUST, EVER! Tillamook Ice Cream for you girl, delivered by dancing zebra's wearing a glitter thong. Oh yeah.**

**Episode Point of reference: Oki-tay, we are now past the church memorial trap of terror, and Damon just got a beat down first by Connor then Stefan. For the purpose of this story, we are assuming that after Stefan punched Damon about the bloodsharing he went back into the church to collect Elena (who just compelled April, Kudos girl) and told her they needed to "talk", epic frowny face included. Elena's response: "Sure, but can I go home and shower first seeing as I'm covered in blood? Again..." Stefan: "Sure. Come over later. Peace."**

**Hope you guys enjoy! This is gonna be fun...**

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**ELENA POV**

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**The Turning Point**

I don't hear anything, but I feel it.

He's here.

What is he doing here?

Thank God I locked the bathroom door. Maybe he'll hear me in the shower and just go.

Probably not.

He'll probably be sitting on my windowsill, waiting for me when I come out and hoping he'll scare me. He loves doing that. But I don't want to, can't, face him right now. I'm not ready to begin to sort through all the things that happened today that weren't supposed to. First I need to figure out what I'm going to say to Stefan.

I'm supposed to be going over there to "talk". His request. He's so angry and I'm not sure what about. I don't know how much he knows, or suspects, of what's been going on behind his back. I'm angry too and there are more than a few things I need to let him know that I'm not okay with.

Not that any of that excuses me cheating on him with his brother.

I sigh. I'm a horrible person. It's a good thing I'm in the shower because all of a sudden I feel incredibly dirty, the guilt slamming into me with the force of a nuclear blast.

I don't want to feel this. I enjoyed everything that happened with Damon and it feels like the worst kind of betrayal to know that I'm supposed to regret him and the only thing I do regret was that it wasn't enough and that's all we'll ever have.

I slide down the tile wall, sinking to the floor of the tub. I curl into myself, folding under the force of my guilt where I'm left void from my missing regret. The water continues to rush over me and I know no matter how much I beg it won't ever sweep me under and away.

The tears have started and I can tell they're not going to stop. How did it even come to this? I'm his brother's girlfriend and he's worlds out of my league.

The idea that I can even ignite desire in this worldly, experienced man still baffles me. I know he's bedded scores of beautiful, sexy, confident, intelligent, worthy women and I'm nothing more than a small town ex-cheerleader who hasn't been anywhere, hasn't done or seen anything and doesn't have the experience to keep him satisfied.

But he still wants me, still loves me and I don't know why. I want to ask him. I want to know when he decided I was worth more than revenge and what made him change his mind.

I think back over everything that's happened since the first time we met and I can't find the turning point. I know the first time he told me he loved me, but it seemed like he had already known for a while. I wonder if he would even know the answer if I ever found the courage to ask.

I consider if I would have one if he asked me the same in return. I wouldn't. I can't find it either.

I do love him, have loved him, but I was so convinced and determined that it was only as part of my unconventional family. Like how I love Matt. I have been perfectly willing to accept the idea that I can love him without being in love with him. But it's getting harder to find truth in my reasoning.

You cannot be in love with more than one person at a time. It's just not possible. But it's so easy to think you are because of the tricks that lust and temptation can play on you, not to mention the added confusion of trying to discern if you're still in love with a person, or just a memory.

I thought when I fell in love that it would last forever, unchanging.

I was so naïve.

I thought it would be like my parents. I'm sure neither of them ever had any doubts about whether they were still in love with each other. Their marriage wasn't perfect, but compared to the mess of my life it feels like it was. I never thought I'd be so envious of their certainty, but I am.

I meant it when I told Stefan that I loved him while I was locked in that cage. And I know what the next question I need to ask myself is, but it breaks my heart that I have to ask it at all.

Am I still in love with Stefan?

I can't be sure.

I'm so ashamed.

I feel like a failure, a quitter. So many times I promised him I would love him, forgive him, choose him, forever. But I've also threatened that he could lose me and I even told Damon that I would let him go.

I didn't. I haven't.

I didn't ever lose hope that the boy that swept me off my feet would make his way back to me in time. I thought he did. It was dangerously close, but I thought we could make it work again. I thought it would be the same.

Nothing is the same. He's different, I'm different. Our love is different. And we don't have the same needs we had when we first met. We were both looking for our purpose and thought we had found it in each other. We were only half right and we were foolish. I was foolish.

Stefan met a temporary version of myself, though it had felt like my new permanent personality. I was in a pause, a phase, and I'll never go back to who I was before my parents died on Wickery Bridge but we both should have known that I wouldn't stay the lost little girl he found. I grew up and out because of him and it's feeling more and more like he wishes I would've just stayed the same.

But I don't want "the same". I never have. I enjoy being surprised in the best way and I crave excitement. You don't spend your afternoons and Friday nights being thrown eight feet in the air by three other sixteen year old girls because you like to "play it safe." I like the rush and that's who I really am.

And I think I'm starting to understand something else. Love has to change. It has to stretch and pull, grow and shift, change color and shape and texture and flavor. It has to adapt or die. Survival of the fittest.

It seems like Stefan and I fell in love and set a normal, a baseline. Then it dipped under strain, again and again. We're still trying to recapture that baseline and we should be miles above that. I'm not even sure it's still there to be found anymore. It's possible we fell too low to ever climb high enough to find it again.

I wonder if that's why when we were on his rooftop and I told him I'll be with him forever, I couldn't stop myself from adding "If I want." Love doesn't, shouldn't, have caveats and escape clauses and qualifiers. It shouldn't be "maybe" and "only if" and "we'll see how it goes". You should know and it should be and it wasn't. Isn't.

I have doubt and that should tell me all I need to know, but it still doesn't.

My relationship with Damon couldn't be more different. We've had highs and we've had lows, but we still climbed. There's nothing about us now that even resembles who we were to each other at first and how we defined our strained acquaintance.

We've changed position in power, in need, in hate and love. We've pushed and we've pulled and we always seem to come out stronger, though it usually doesn't feel like it at the time.

It seems like every fight in trying to understand what we want and why we want it has woven another band into the vibrant fabric that has bound us together. It should have pushed us further apart, but for some reason the uncertainty is what gives us strength.

It's the not knowing. The worry that stolen moments and secrets will remain just that: stolen, moments, secrets. It makes everything so precious. Would that change if I did the one thing I swore I'd never do? I can't be sure, but I don't think so. I can't imagine the fire between us ever burning out or us ever staying still. That's not us.

_Us_. Those two letters keep making their way into my thoughts and they never did before. I wouldn't allow it. Whenever I thought about what was going on between me and my boyfriend's brother, I always thought in terms of "me" and "him." Separate entities.

"Us" is so intimate. The "u" so secure in shape and strong in its slope, the two points rising up like they're reaching, punching, striking out for more. The "s" settles against it flirtatiously, its supple curves moving to and from its partner so they barely touch one another. It is keeping them separate but only at arm's length. Close enough to touch, but not enough to meld.

But you can see it wants to, they want to. The "s" is desperate to unwind itself and climb over that punching fist so it can crawl inside the bend and settle there, where it knows it will be safe and protected. Where it is home.

We are "us".

But we never will be, because my "s" is already claimed to a name that won't release me unscathed. We'll never be free.

That's it. I make a decision. I never thought I'd do this, but I don't care anymore. It hurts too much to hurt him, to know I should regret him. It's unbearable to continually tear us apart. And breaking up with Stefan wouldn't change the fact that they are brothers and if I dare to try to exchange one for another I'll drive their shaky relationship past the point of repair.

I'm not Katherine. I always said I wouldn't do any of this, no matter what but I can't take this anymore.

It's so easy to find. Like it was waiting for me, smiling at me, inviting me.

I flip it and it's done.

I stand.

I wipe my face.

Tears are pointless and stupid. They don't mean anything. There's nothing that can make me cry again. It's impossible. I smile. I'm impenetrable.

They can't hurt me now.

I want to dance in my freedom and I'm surprised to find I can still feel joy and excitement. I sway my hips to the rhythm in my head, letting my body move in weightlessness and exploring the release of tension through my muscles as I plan.

I'm leaving. I don't belong here anymore and it's dumb to stay. I have no reason to stay. I can go anywhere, do anything. I have plenty of money and no one to stop me.

Oh shit! I can compel my way into and across any country I choose. I'm totally fucking free. I laugh loud and clear, the sound bouncing off the tile. I revel in the echo; I don't remember the last time I laughed like this and it feels fantastic.

I hear the door open and the lock break.

I don't care, I just keep dancing as I wash my body. The shower curtain pulls back but I don't flinch and I don't stop. Let him look. Fine with me.

"Hey," I say nonchalantly and flash him a smile.

Damon smiles back, but he's confused.

"Hey back," he says, watching me.

He looks like he wants to kiss me, but he's not moving. I don't know what his problem is. He's the one that's supposed to think with his dick first and his fist second. And since when does he act like such a little girl about everything? It's not like we haven't been making out all day.

I grab the front of his shirt and pull him to me, kissing him. His mouth is plump, but that's all I feel. No love, no hate, no fear, no regret.

Nothing.

Glorious, vastness, emptiness.

I pull back and turn to reach for my shampoo, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me so I'm facing him again. I stare at him, naked and indifferent. He's not. His jaw is tight and his brow is furrowed. He reminds me of Stefan and how he looks when he's all broody and the idea makes me burst out in raucous laughter.

"Elena, what's so funny?" Jeremy calls from his room with a smile in his voice. He hasn't heard me laugh in months either.

"Fuck off and mind your own damn business," I call back.

"Elena!" Damon hisses at me. I smirk at him.

"Bitch," I hear Jeremy mumble from his bedroom. Whatever, I don't care.

"Turn it back on," he says forcefully.

"No," I grin.

"I mean it, Elena."

I shove against his chest with all my strength, sending him crashing back into my bathroom counter.

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore!" I scream.

He stares in fury as I bare my fangs and I can see myself reflected over his shoulder in the mirror. I'm dangerous and beautiful, complete with black veins and black tears dripping from my eyes that I won't allow to fall. It's a rush of power to push him away, to have the strength and control to fight his hold on me.

I'm never turning it back on.

Jeremy hears the crash and the locked handle that connects his room and the bathroom jiggles, but doesn't budge.

"Elena?! Who's in there? Are you okay?!"

"I said to shut up and to mind your own fucking business, you little shit! Just get out of my fucking life!"

"Stay here," Damon growls at me.

I roll my eyes at him. This is my house and I decide where I go. Not him.

"Just leave already," I mumble and reach again for my shampoo, closing the shower curtain.

I hear him walk towards Jeremy's room and I realize I'm not quite as free as I thought. Yet. My stupid brother is going to whine and cry and look for me and I don't need the bullshit or the hassle of him tagging along after me. I need to clear the path behind me just as much as it's open in front of me.

It's not that big of a deal, nobody is going to miss him. And it'll make it easier to disappear once the town erases the last traces of the Gilbert family with some really original cover up about another "animal attack" or some "tragic accident." Imbeciles.

I'm actually doing him a favor. It wasn't that long ago that he wanted to die. Well, he tried to turn but the moron couldn't even manage to get that right. And it was probably only a matter of time before he ended up in the ground anyways. This is mercy. I'll be saving him from a few more months of memories of dead girlfriends and rotting parents and how he's a loser with no friends. What are big sisters for?

I poke my head back out.

"Hey, can you just go ahead and kill him for me? It would save me some time… Just don't forget the ring. Wouldn't want you to fuck it up like you did last time. Thanks," I smile.

Damon stops mid step and stares at me. Shock, hurt, anger, fear, love. It's all there in his eyes.

I don't want to see it, so I retreat back to the water. Just because he's stupid enough to feel doesn't mean I need to witness it. And he should know better.

I wait eagerly for the screams to start from my brother's bedroom, that or for the satisfying and distinctive snap of a neck being broken. Neither come. I sigh. The man really can't follow even the simplest of instructions. What I do hear is him unlock the door and sigh as he dodges whatever attack Jeremy launched at him.

"Really, Jeremy?" he says irritated.

"Damon? What the hell is going on?" my brother demands. "Why are you in there with her? And do you know she's acting crazy?"

"I know," he says sounding tired.

Pussy.

"I don't hear anybody dying in there!" I call out like I'm scolding him.

"What did-"

"Are you on vervain?" Damon asks, cutting him off.

"What? No…do I need to be? Do you think she'd try to drink from me?"

"What about your bracelet?"

"Yeah, right here… Hey!"

"Forget what just happened. You came home from the memorial, Elena took a shower, you didn't hear anything and you didn't see me."

"I didn't hear anything and I didn't see you," Jeremy says, his voice dazed.

"Cheater!" I yell at Damon.

"Go to the Grill, hang out with Matt. Stay at his house until I tell you to come home. Do you understand?"

"I understand…"

"Good. Go," he says and I hear him come back into the bathroom.

"I told you to kill him, not to compel him," I complain, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair.

"I heard you," he snaps and I hear his suit jacket land on the counter, his phone banging against the side of the sink.

I poke my head out to glare at him.

"I should have known better than to think you'd actually do what I want for a change."

"Watch it," he growls, pointing a finger at me.

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

He kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks.

"I should have known you would pick today, of all fucking days, to pull this shit," he mumbles while beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he snaps at me. "I'm tired, I'm pissed off and I need a damn shower."

"Like you don't have one at your house," I sneer. "And I don't know what you're complaining about. Like your day was so awful."

"Sure," he says, throwing his shirt on the floor in rage and unbuckling his belt. "It's not like I've been accused of murder, nearly drained dry, fucked over, elbowed in the ribs, punched in the face, almost staked and shot five times in the chest by some asshole with a leather fetish."

I didn't know he had been shot but there are five distinct blood smears on his chest. One of them barely an inch above his heart.

I feel a sharp twinge under my sternum where my emotions used to be, but that's it. The switch holds. I'm safe.

"Aww, poor baby," I pout at him sarcastically, until my face twists and I snarl. "Why don't you just go fucking cry about it already."

"I told you to fucking watch it, Elena. I'm over the psychotic bitch act," he yells, then his face changes. "And for your information, Katherine's a lot better at it than you are," he smirks and takes off his pants.

"Fuck you! Get the hell out of my house!" I scream as he pushes me aside and steps into the shower.

"Rain-check," he says casually, leaning his head back into the water.

I throw a punch, but he catches my fist before it lands, seeing my intent clearly even with his eyes closed under the spray.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?!" I yell, yanking my hand back.

His eyes open and he steps forward towards me.

"You know why," he says softly, his hand moving to cup my cheek.

I slap it away before he can touch me and it reminds me of how he did the same to me this morning. I smile. Payback's a bitch.

"I. Don't. Care," I whisper slowly, coldly, cruelly. My face is clean of everything except apathy.

The back of my head hits tile, but not hard enough to hurt. His hand is at the base of my throat; he's not choking me, but he's pushing me with the force of his palm against the small gap where my collarbones meet. His fingers are so long that with them spread out like they are, four are pressing deep into one of my shoulders while his thumb pins my other, my whole chest trapped under the strength of his hand.

"That's enough," he declares angrily. "You've had your fun, now turn it back on."

"Nope," I smile, popping my lips on the "p".

Damon releases me.

"Fine. Have it your way," he says with a bored expression. "I'll flip mine too then we can get the fuck out of this town. Where are we going?"

"We aren't going anywhere," I say, stepping past him and back under the water where it's warm.

"Come on, Elena," he taunts, leaning against the side of the shower with his arms crossed lazily over his chest. "It'll be fun," he leers at me, his eyes widening in suggestion.

I remember this look from when I first met him. Another twinge, but still holding.

"We can kill and fuck as much as we want and no one will ever find us. It'll be our little secret, just like you like it."

I glower at him.

"We can hit up the middle schools on parent-teacher conference night and completely wipe them out," he says with a casual wave of his hand. "That way, the kids are old enough to care that their parents are dead, but not quite old enough to handle the emotional trauma."

His bored expression slides off, replaced by a grin that leaks sick excitement as his mouth twists over his words.

"They'll be ruined. It'll be great."

"Don't," I snap at him, leaning away and expanding the space between us.

He steps forward.

"We can even go to the funerals if you want," he offers, his eyes flaring with anticipation. "That way we can watch and laugh while their family members sob like pathetic little bitches. How does that sound?"

I don't say anything.

"I bet we could overload and crash this country's foster care system in a week if we were serious about it," he considers.

"Stop…" I whisper.

"Or we could go the other route, take out the kiddos," he says with a shrug of his shoulders and taking another step towards me. "Schools, daycares, parks, playgrounds. Hell, we could even hit the maternity wards and nurseries at the hospitals," he adds like he's discussing which bars we should go to after dinner.

"What'll it be, Elena?" he asks, cocking his head and waiting for my answer. "Mommies, or babies, or both?"

I turn around so I can't see him. The twinge in my chest is now throbbing and it hurts. I'm not supposed to hurt. I push it away with all I can, trying to bury it under blankness.

Damon steps closer behind me so his body grazes mine, his hands resting on my shoulders. I could, should, shake him off, but I don't. I allow him to lean down and place one long, soft, closed mouth kiss against my neck before I hear his near silent whisper into my ear.

"I know it hurts, but I'm right here and you don't have to do this alone."

I don't trust my mouth. I shake my head no.

His hands leave my shoulders, trailing down my arms until he finds my hands and winds his fingers over and through mine. He wraps our arms around me; our left hands resting on my right hip, our right hands over my heart. His lips touch my temple.

"Please…" he pleads so quietly I can barely hear him over the thundering water. "Come back to me, Elena…"

There's a crack and an avalanche inside my heart and mind. It makes my head jerk back and my knees buckle, my chest ripping open as I scream.

Kill me, cut me, burn me, stake me. Just make it go away.

Pain, endless, boundless, pain.

Agony, torture, eternal grief.

Clawing, shredding, hurt.

Guilt.

Fear.

Hate.

Disgust.

Disappointment.

Regret.

Resentment.

Fury.

The water stops.

I'm on my knees, bending and bowing under the force of my breaking, my forehead scraping against the floor of the tub. Damon is everywhere, his body encasing mine with his head lying between my shoulder blades. He doesn't speak, he just holds me as I scream and cry and shatter.

Two wet lines roll down my spine. I realize he's crying for me, with me, and everything goes black.

* * *

**A/N: Soooooo, was anyone expecting that? 'Cause I wasn't; this was never in the original plot plan but I started writing the chapter, and as soon as Elena was in the shower the bitch gave me the bird and went over the edge, and I happily followed! So much fun to write her crazy. **

**_Overall check in:_ As much as I have loved writing every word in this story, this is a Memorial episode ONLY fic and we are fast approaching the end of the episode. However, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to give us some more goodies before I bid farewell to Mirrors, so hang with me please. We are only going up from here, and we are going to have a blast with the ending. Promise. **

**What does this mean? CLICK THOSE BUTTONS MY LOVELIES! FOLLOW STORY, and don't forget AUTHOR because if Trogdor19 somehow convinces me to write a sequel or some other story, I'd hate to have you miss it! 'Cause this was all her crazy ass idea to write a Memorial Fic in the first place. **

**I know I say this a lot, but really, thank you guys for every hit, every favorite, every follow, and especially every review. I will never be able to say that enough. **

**-Goldnox**


	9. Under, Over

**A/N: Hi sweethearts! Thank you all for your amazing reviews! Onward we shall go!**

**Thanks always to Trogdor19 for beta'ing my goofy booty into shape. Love girl, love. **

**Episode point of reference: We are still hanging in non-canon land between the memorial and the Stefan/Elena jealousy talk. We are going to continue right where we left off last chapter, so feel free to remind yourself what that crazy girl pulled on us by skipping back if need be. Enjoy!**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**Under, Over**

Awareness finds me and I'm cold, chilled under air hitting wet spots on my skin.

My hip hurts. I'm on my side, my weight grinding it into something hard.

My upper body is leaning against something soft, warm, forgiving.

Square fingernails are tickling me as they brush against my face, pulling through my wet hair.

Whispers skim my scalp.

Verses were floating to me in the darkness, guiding me towards peace and I'm relieved to find they're still here, welcoming me home.

I listen, my eyes closed as the words fall to the rhythm of a heartbeat.

"Silence invades the breathing wood  
Where drowsy limbs a treasure keep,  
Now greenly falls the learned shade  
Across the sleeping brows  
And stirs their secret to a smile."*

I breathe deep and shiver, the body under me shifting slightly as the hands leave and cotton drapes me. The heartbeat that was steady begins to race and a finger touches the spot under my chin and lifts.

I open my eyes and I know I'm safe as I absorb black hair framing blue eyes. Eyes that are worried and gentle, sweeping through me as they search under and over every part of my soul. They must find what they were searching for. They close under the release of a deep breath and I sink further into his softening chest. His heartbeat slows.

"Damon?"

His arm that's over me pulls me closer, the hand tilting my face up to him now cupping my cheek and holding me under his chin and over his heart.

"It's okay…you're okay, Elena."

I sniffle and snuggle closer. He's so upset and it's my fault. More guilt.

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asks quietly a minute later.

I'm not sure if he's asking because we're laying in my bathtub which isn't nearly big enough for both of us, or because I'm naked. _We're_ naked, I realize, and suddenly I can feel everything. It's a comforting and warm feeling as my blood circulates through me, spreading a blush over me from head to toe.

I shake my head and whisper, "No."

"Elena, what happened?" he asks gently. He's not judging, he's just trying to understand what broke so it doesn't happen again.

I can't tell him. I can't put that blame on him. It's not his fault, but he'll feel like it is. I don't say anything.

"Please, tell me…"

I squeeze my eyes shut. I won't do this to him.

"Is there something I need to take care of?"

He's still not judging, but he wants to know how many people I killed while I couldn't feel. I don't blame him for asking. I actually asked him to kill Jeremy, I remember.

My stomach rolls.

I shake my head no at him again.

"Because there's nothing left, or because it didn't happen?" he clarifies.

"Didn't happen," I barely say. My throat is dry and itchy from screaming and crying for so long.

"You know you can tell me if it did. It doesn't change anything."

"I know," I whisper.

He must believe me, he doesn't ask again. He doesn't say anything for a while, he just holds me to him while we shakily breathe together. When he does speak again, he sounds nervous and that scares me more than anything. Damon doesn't get nervous unless it's really bad.

"Elena, you know nothing I said was real. I would never let that happen and I wouldn't do that to you. You do know that, don't you?"

"I do."

He lets out another deep breath and I sink further. I wonder how many are inside him, waiting to be let out. Probably more than I want to know, but I need to find them. I can't stand the idea of his worry poisoning him from the inside out.

"I'm sorry," he whispers like it's difficult to say. "It's just… God, Elena, you scared the shit out of me and I didn't know what it was going to take to get you back."

His hand moves from where he's holding my face down to the bottom of my neck, his thumb sweeping over the hollow part under my throat.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" his voice quivers.

I bring one of my hands up to cover his, wishing I could give him the peace he always brings me.

"No, Damon, you never hurt me."

I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I don't deserve his worry, his apologies, not after everything I've put him through.

"Damon, I'm so sorry," I sob, shaking under my remorse. "I didn't mean it. I do care. I never wanted to hurt you, I just-"

"It's okay, Elena," he sooths. "You didn't hurt me and you don't have to apologize. This was going to happen at some point. I'm just glad I was here."

I want to tell him that I'm glad too. I need to tell him that no one could have broken me in the only way that would work, that he was the only one with the key to unlocking my humanity again. I don't get a chance.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but it'll happen again. But you have to understand, it doesn't last," he says seriously so I know he's being completely honest. Not to scare me, but to warn me of what I'm up against.

"It'll hold for a while, but it fights you and eventually it'll break. The older you get, the weaker it becomes and then one day it'll just be gone. It's only temporary, so whatever it is you're running from, it'll catch up to you in the end. And like everything else, the longer you wait, the worse it gets."

"I understand," I tell him.

"Good. So next time, you talk to me first and whatever it is, we'll figure it out together, okay? You do not have to do this on your own. We're all here: Jeremy, Bonnie, Caroline, even Matt."

I nod my head at his request. I can't believe he's saying these things. He's always honest but we're never usually this open. I must have really scared him. It's probably easier that we're not looking at each other. I don't know if I could take looking at his eyes right now on top of his words.

I know I can't do this without him and I don't have to. But I need to be able to, for him.

"Say 'I promise.'"

"I promise," I agree and I feel him place a light kiss to my head.

More silence.

I'm too overwhelmed to go through everything at once and thank God he seems to understand that. He's not pushing, he's not rushing, he's just letting me try to find my normal again and giving me all the time I need.

"You ready to tell me what happened?" he asks quietly some time later.

I shake my head no.

He huffs out a little breath, like he doesn't want to say what he's going to. I know what he's going to say and I don't want him to say it either.

"Does it have something to do with your phone beeping constantly the last twenty minutes?"

I nod my head yes.

"Where are you supposed to be?"

"Your house," I whisper.

His chest shakes a little under silent laughter, his arms holding me tighter.

"You're not kidding," he says in the husky voice that he knows makes my nipples hard, which is incredibly embarrassing considering we're naked.

He draped a towel over me, but it's not covering much and I know he knows what he's doing to my body. I'm sure he can see how red every visible part of me is and hear how fast my heart just started racing.

"Hmm," he rumbles happily to himself, obviously satisfied with my reaction and I feel him grow and harden against me.

It feels wonderful, but I also know it's wrong. I start to pull away, but he barely lets me move.

"Don't even think about it," he teases and holds me tighter.

I smile. He's not giving me a choice and it's so selfish but I don't even care I'm so glad. He's giving me what he knows I want, but in a way that allows me to justify it so I don't feel as guilty. He always takes such good care of me.

I relish in my guiltless comfort and nuzzle my cheek against him so I'm snuggling even closer. I feel a rumble in his chest that reminds me of a purr, but I don't hear it anywhere else. I nuzzle him once more to see if I can make him do it again and I can. Another favorite sound. There's been so many today.

There's still some blood on his chest from where he was shot and that never got fully clean. I gently touch the place where one of the bullets that tried to kill him pierced his skin.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not anymore," he says and places another light kiss on my hair.

I realize his shirt must be riddled with holes and covered in blood and he's going to have to put it back on before he goes. I hate the idea of him having to cover his gorgeous body with anything less than the exquisite perfection he usually dresses in.

"Your shirt…"

"Don't remind me," he mumbles.

"You could borrow one of Jeremy's, or I could get you one of my Dad's, if you want."

I want to say that Ric still has some clothes here too, but I don't want to bring him up and upset him anymore than I already have. He doesn't need to be reminded that his best friend just died. He's been through enough.

I snuggle closer.

"You should probably just leave some clothes here for emergencies," I say before I think better of it.

I shouldn't have said that. It's not fair to him that I ask him to play the boyfriend I won't allow him to be.

Damon isn't saying anything, but his heart rate just sped up and that says it all.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, ashamed. "I know I don't-"

"It's not that, Elena," he says gently, lightly squeezing me so I know he's not mad.

"Then-"

"I do have clothes here," he tells me quietly.

I'm flooded with warmth and a large smile spreads across my face.

"I have some shirts and pants in Ric's closet, just in case, seeing as how I can't seem to go a day without ruining at least three," he says in the nonchalant voice he uses when he's trying to hide how much emotion is behind what he's really saying.

"Is that okay?" he adds in an uncertain whisper that tells me the truth.

His grip on me loosens in insecurity, enough that I can pull away and sit up to look at him. I want him to see my eyes so he'll believe me. His eyes are hesitant as he watches me, waiting for me to turn him away and shut him down, waiting for me to run.

He still waits for my answer while I run my fingers though his damp hair, brushing a few strays back off his forehead. He doesn't move as I lean forward slowly, his heart pounding as I smile.

"Yes," I whisper before I kiss him.

I press my slightly parted mouth to his, wrapping his bottom lip between mine. Damon is always clean shaven, but it's late in the day and his upper lip tickles me with the barest trace of returning hair that I can't see. It's also rasping against my chin and I move my hands to his cheeks so I can absorb the contradiction of him, soft only beneath a coarse shield that has a magnificent texture all its own.

It makes me feel so delicate, so feminine, that he's such a man and I love it. He makes me feel like a woman, not a young girl or a teenager and it kills me that I can't seem to explain any of this to him. I want him to know that I can see the changes in me and I like that they're a reflection of him.

He pulls back.

"Elena," he says and let's go of another deep sigh he had contained. I can't help but smile. One more down. Soon I'll get them all and I'll feel so much better knowing they've gone where they can't hurt him anymore.

I look at him, perfectly comfortable and relaxed now.

He's not. He's warring with himself, trying to figure out how to do the right thing by all three of us. But he's also unable to deny what it is he wants, or hide how much he wants it.

"You know I should go before-"

"No," I stop him. "You didn't get your shower and I'm not putting you in another clean shirt just so you can get blood all over that one too. So you're going to stay here while I draw you a bath and you're not allowed to leave until I say so. Do I make myself clear?" I ask in the scolding voice he uses on me, eliciting a smile from him.

"Good," I say and kiss him again. "Now, stay here and I'll be right back," I promise before lithely jumping out of the tub and blurring from the bathroom before he can catch me.

"Hey!" he yells after me and I answer with a giggle.

I go into my room and grab my phone, texting Stefan that I'm going to be late and I'll be there in another hour or so. I don't even look at any of the messages he sent. I won't let his words sway me anymore or distract me from all I feel when he's gone.

I can't let myself think about the things I'm going to have to say to him. How I can't betray him, or Damon, or me, anymore. It's not fair to any of us and I won't sentence us to spend eternity in purgatory. It's within my power to fix all of this, I just have to find the strength to do it. But I won't let myself be afraid just now, because for once I know what needs to be done.

I have a hurting and bloody angel in my bathtub and I'm the only one he'll let take care of him, so that's what I'm going to do. Everything else can wait.

I receive a response immediately, saying he'll see me soon and to take my time. I turn my phone off and lock my bedroom window before I head down to the hallway to Ric's room, completely nude and without a trace of self-consciousness to be found about it.

"Elena…" Damon calls impatiently from the bathroom.

I beam. I was half worried he would give in to his conscience and bolt once I was out of sight, but he didn't.

"I don't hear any water running," I chastise playfully and open my deceased guardian's door.

The faucet turns immediately and I hear water greeting porcelain.

I enter Ric's closet, turning on the light. It's impossibly easy to tell which clothes are Damon's in a sea of Fruit of the Loom and flannel. I grab a hanger and look inside for the label to see who designed it, because I can't help myself.

There isn't one. It was custom made. He chose the color, the cut, the fabric. It was crafted to mold him perfectly and it's exactly what he wanted. I bring it up and breathe. It still smells like him, even though it's been living in my house for who knows how long.

I smile. Damon knows. I wonder when he brought them and why he didn't tell me. I love that they've been here all this time, but I wish I would've known, that way I could've been doing this whole time what I'm going to do now and most likely going to do again in the very near future now that I know they're here.

I unbutton it and slip it on, completely mesmerized by the way it glides across and over my skin. It's so soft I almost can't even feel it.

I step in front of Ric's full length mirror as I button it. I only close enough so that it's clasped between the bottom of my breasts and my navel, teasing the reveal of skin. I pull my wet hair out of the collar and scrunch it, giving it the sexy, playful look that only happens when it's wet because of the curls I normally iron out.

I look myself over. I look striking and sexy with his long, loose sleeves and an open collar highlighting the softness of my jaw. I turn and check over my shoulder; the length is perfect, barely covering my bottom in a way that is almost cruel to do to him.

I'm giddy with anticipation. I can't wait to see his face when I go back in there. I probably get just as much pleasure from seeing his eyes pop as he does trying to get my heart to race.

"You do realize that you're the only woman in America without bubble bath, right?" he whines as I walk down the hall.

"Are you complaining?" I ask huskily as I stroll into my bathroom, letting my hips sway slightly more than I usually do.

Damon is crouched down, searching through the cabinets under my sink with a towel around his hips. He's completely frozen and staring at me and I swear I saw the shadow of black veins around his eyes twice already.

He smiles and its pure excitement and sexual deviance and I'm instantly aroused.

I parade around behind him, not missing the way his eyes are glued to my every move as I reach up into the cabinet where we keep the extra towels and pull down the hidden bubble bath I keep stored away.

"You hide your bubble bath?" he asks, his voice deeper and rougher than normal.

"Little brother," I say and wink at him.

Damon shakes a little under silent laughter.

"Right…" he nods. He gets it.

He stands and takes the soap from me, setting it on the counter. He hooks one finger into the shirt between my breasts and pulls, his other arm wrapping around my waist as he brings me in to him and his erection presses against me.

"Who said you could put this on?" he almost growls, folding back the collar to reveal my shoulder and kissing my neck. Fire blazes under, over, and through me.

"Is it a problem?" I breathe as his tongue touches me.

"Yes," he replies and I feel a button open.

"You're supposed to be in the bath," I mumble as he continues to do the most delicious things with his mouth against my skin.

"What bath?"

"The one that's about to overflow," I say and he stops, glancing to see if I'm right.

"Shit," he says and steps away to turn off the water, making me giggle in pride that I can distract him this much.

I step in behind him and place my hands on his hips before I lay a light kiss on his back.

"In the water please," I command and tear off his towel. I'm rewarded with the sound of him sucking in a breath in surprise.

He doesn't move, so I lean back just the slightest bit and slap his toned bottom.

"Go," I scold and he obeys with a chuckle.

"You're bossy," he teases, sinking down and stretching out in the water.

"More complaints?" I say, raising an eyebrow at him as I perch on the edge of the tub, facing him.

"Nope," he grins back, trailing his fingertips up and down my exposed thigh. "Just observations."

"Hmm, well I think you would've noticed that by now."

"Oh, I have," he smiles.

I retrieve my body wash from the corner of the bath and set it next to me before I roll his sleeves up to my elbows, dipping my hands in the water. I could use a loofah or a washcloth, but I don't want to clean him with anything other than my bare hands against his skin. Damon just watches as I pool a small amount of soap in my palms and rub them together, making a lather.

I begin to run my hands over his chest, his head falling back with a sigh and his eyes closing as I caress and touch him.

"Feel good?" I ask quietly.

"Mm-hmm," he nods.

"Good," I whisper, leaning forward and placing a kiss against his jaw.

He smiles and I do too as I travel my way across his skin to his neck. I let one of my hands fall below the water line and trail down his stomach to where he's waiting for me.

He stops me, his hands circling my wrist.

"It's okay," I press to his ear. "Just let me take care of you."

"Not first," he breathes back.

"Damon, sometimes it's okay to just receive," I tell him, though I'm sure that's a completely foreign concept to him. Damon always gives back three times as much as he gets.

"Not with you…"

"It's what I want," I whisper, because that's the key to breaking through to him. "Please, Damon. It's okay, I promise."

He takes a deep breath and his grip loosens enough that I can pull away from his hold.

"Thank you," I breathe and wrap my fingers around him lovingly.

Slowly and gently, I feel every inch of his length which is just out of sight. I sweep my thumb over his rounded tip, circling and learning him, before I tease my nails down the vein that's most sensitive. He trembles under my touch, his heart racing and struggling to keep his breathing steady as I stroke him. His hand on my thigh is gripping and squeezing in rhythm with mine and I let it guide me to what feels best to him.

Soon his breaths are shallow and quick, his movements instinctive as his whole body lightly thrusts against the edge of the tub and up into my hand. His eyes are closed and his jaw is tight, though his lips are parted under the groans he can't contain.

"Elena…" he moans, his eyes pinching tighter shut.

"Just let go," I tell him and he does.

His hand clenches my leg under the force of his orgasm and he shouts and grunts as he pumps wave after wave of his release into the water. I let him settle, attempting to catch his breath as I bury my face in his neck. Both my hands are against his chest while his are wrapped around me, holding me over and to him.

"Feel better?" I ask once he's almost calm.

His whole chest shakes in that always silent laughter.

"Yes, Elena. Much better. Thank you," he humors me with more than a little sarcasm.

I pull back and give him a dirty look and when I see a smile I realize that was exactly what he wanted to happen. He immediately buries his hands in my hair and pulls me back to his eager mouth.

I feel his hand sneak past my knee and in between my legs and I catch it, the same way he stopped me. I smirk at him.

"Nope."

He pouts at me and it's so adorable that I almost give in, but I don't.

"Sorry," I smile and kiss his protruding bottom lip.

I pull away again and he groans, his thumb massaging the little bit of skin it can reach inside my thigh.

"That's so unfair," he grumbles.

"To you or to me?" I ask, cocking my head at him.

"Both," he grins, his eyes flaring in suggestion.

I know he has to know how turned on I am and the fact that I'm not wearing anything other than his shirt is not helping to hide my overflowing want. But as much as I want him to touch me, what I really want most is for him to let me take care of him without his having to give anything in return. For once I want to treat him the way he does me and he always loves me so selflessly.

"I think I'll survive," I smile.

"Ouch…"

"You know that's not what I mean," I glare at him.

"Not sure I do, and you kind of hurt my feelings," he says far too innocently. Then his eyes widen and he's all devilish and wicked again. "But you can make it up to me."

That's my boy. Crazy, dangerously handsome, knows it and knows how to use it. And loves with devotion like no one I've ever met before in my entire life.

"Damon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

"Elena…"

"I'm serious, Damon," I say and he sits up, winding his arms around my waist and laying his head over my heart. I hug him back, my fingers threading through his hair as he hides his face from me.

"For coming here, for fixing me, for protecting Jeremy. I owe you everything, so many times over, and one day I'm going to find a way to make this up to you."

"You don't owe me anything, Elena," he mumbles against my skin.

"I do," I say quietly, "I owe you _me_."

Damon grips me tighter.

"You do deserve me, Damon. I'm the one that doesn't deserve you."

"Please, Elena, not today. I can't-"

"Okay. It's okay," I sooth and kiss his head.

We don't say anything else for a few minutes. We just sit and hold what we shouldn't want.

Damon takes a deep breath before he speaks again.

"I should go," he says quietly.

I want to tell him to stay, but I can't and we both know why. He shouldn't have been here in the first place and he's already stayed too long. This is all so incredibly dangerous and reckless and it's nothing short of a miracle that his brother hasn't shown up here. I should have been at his house long ago and it's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me.

I lay a final kiss on his hair before cupping his cheeks and making him look at me. His eyes always tell me everything. He's tired, but he still wants me. He's angry that he has to leave and he's heartbroken over the reason why.

I place my mouth on his, wishing I could kiss away his pain and I can't, but I still try to anyways.

When I release him to turn and let the water out of the tub, my eyes don't miss the depth of the hurt he lets show for only a moment. He's trying so hard to be strong and I wish he didn't have to be strong at all.

I take his hands and help him stand until he's towering over me, leading him from the bath. He's quiet and still while he lets me pat him dry with the towel he was wearing earlier and when I'm finished I feel his hands on my face followed by the gentlest of kisses on my forehead.

"Thank you," he says and I nod, my voice caught in my throat.

He lets me go and picks up his pants off the floor, sliding them up his legs lazily and without thought. His back is to me as I hear him close the zipper and clasp the buckle and I don't stop myself from hugging him from behind with all my strength.

He lets me hold him for a minute before he turns in my arms, cupping my face and searching my eyes, but not kissing me. Just watching me fall a little more in love with him.

When I pull my hands away from him he does the same, but he doesn't step back. I unbutton his shirt and peel it back, rolling it off one shoulder at a time before letting it slide down my back and arms. I catch it at the collar before it falls to the floor, swinging it around his waist so it's open, behind him. His hands find the openings for the sleeves and I bring it up slowly, letting the fabric settle over his shoulders and the front hang open.

My fingers try to clasp the first button, but before I'm successful his mouth is on mine, kissing me with such intensity that I barely notice as he lifts me up and sets me on the counter. My legs have secured themselves around his waist, my back arched under the force of his lips moving to my neck and down my bare chest.

My head falls back and I can feel the growl in his throat as his tongue tastes my nipple. The vibration already has me close to climax.

_What the hell, what's another half hour?_

Damon's head snaps up and he releases me in a blur that almost makes me fall. I hear the bathwater start before he's back.

"Get in the shower," he presses into my mouth almost silently and then he disappears, all evidence of him suddenly gone.

The front door shuts.

"Elena?" Stefan calls from downstairs.

"I'm in the shower, I'll be down in a minute," I say in what I hope is a convincingly calm voice, because I'm absolutely panicking.

I get down from the counter without a sound and step into the shower again, praying to God that he stays downstairs.

"Okay, take your time," he replies and I step under the spray.

I curse every drop of water that washes away the proof of Damon's love.

* * *

**Warm are the Still and Lucky Miles by W. H. Auden**

_"Warm are the still and lucky miles,_  
_White shores of longing stretch away,_  
_A light of recognition fills_  
_The whole great day, and bright_  
_The tiny world of lovers' arms._

_Silence invades the breathing wood_  
_Where drowsy limbs a treasure keep,_  
_Now greenly falls the learned shade_  
_Across the sleeping brows_  
_And stirs their secret to a smile._

_Restored! Returned! The lost are borne_  
_On seas of shipwreck home at last:_  
_See! In a fire of praising burns_  
_The dry dumb past, and we_  
_Our life-day long shall part no more."_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all over and over again. Still going forward, not done yet. Promise! Thanks for reading**

**-Goldnox**


	10. Small Steps

**A/N: Ah, my darling readers! How I adore thee! You guys have been amazing through this story, more than I ever could have dreamed. So with that being said, we need to have a serious talk. **

**This story has been so fun to play with, to add extra moments to the episode that touched so many. But, we have a major issue that had to be confronted. Because of canon purposes and in making it flow seamlessly into the the rest of the season without contradiction, some things could not be changed. I'm referring to Elena and Stefan's relationship status. As much as I wanted to write a fantastic blow up/break up...I just couldn't do it. This chapter killed me, and I've struggled with this to where it pushed me beyond sanity. It has taken exponential re-writes and revisions to make this work, and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to write. If you don't believe me, ask Trogdor19 because she had to listen to me whine and cry about it for the last week straight while trying to yank this out of me with pointy tools. So, please understand that this IS a Delena fic at heart, and though I can't solve every problem, I'm going to try to make this up to you. Promise.**

**Episode point of reference: We are starting with Damon in the graveyard during that beautiful scene of him talking to Ric, then switching to Elena as she reflects back on the lantern funeral about an hour after Damon leaves and all her movements since. Enjoy!**

**Many thanks to Trogdor19 for beta'ing this into submission. Couldn't have done this without you burninator.**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Small Steps**

"Ric, you should be so thankful that you didn't have a brother," I say to his headstone. "Unless, you did have one and you killed him, which I fucking applaud."

I take a deep pull off my bottle of whiskey.

I always wondered if there was a welcome mat outside the door of the Twilight Zone. Imagine my complete lack of surprise to discover that not only there is one, but it reads, "Welcome to Mystic Falls, fucker. And don't bother wiping your feet, because you're about to be up to your eyeballs in bullshit."

I shake my head at myself. I should have known. I just didn't want to. And the worst part is, I still don't want to know. I just…I just don't understand. I thought we were there. I thought it was time. I thought we had finally taken that last small step towards honesty and admittance.

I was wrong. Again. But how the fuck was I supposed to know any different? Oh, that's right. Because I live in the God damn Twilight Zone.

How else can you explain a girl that can touch your skin and kiss you with so much love it actually makes you forget that you don't deserve it, then turns around and snatches it away without blinking her long curled eyelashes?

"And I don't know what you said to Isobel to convince her to marry your sorry ass, but if you could pass that shit along, buddy, I'd appreciate it," I slur and follow with another thick gulp.

No call. No text. Radio-fucking-silence.

And I love her, but right now I hate her.

"Because apparently," I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster, "being smoking hot and loaded as all fuck isn't good enough for the ones that are actually worth caring about."

Never in my existence have I been this confused, this frustrated, this weary. And why am I not immune to this shit by now?

I should be, I've fought in plenty of wars. I know all about battle cries and formations and I'll never forget the gun-powder haze that overtakes the air so all you see and breathe is the stinging fog of death. I can still hear the blast of the cannon and the whizzing of the ball as it skirts by, missing you but decapitating your only friend left alive.

Combat and I are old acquaintances, but I never wanted to meet like this again. That's why I burned my last uniform. I vowed I was done and I didn't want to remember all the things I did under the command of others. I watched with satisfaction as the threads turned black and unraveled, sizzling up into nothing.

Now I'm stuck in a war that I don't even remember signing up for. A war that should have been declared a loss, but it's still not over. I hadn't realized I had exchanged Confederate grey and Army green for her preferred black leather.

And no general has ever been able to make me forget that I hate being a soldier, but all she has to do is smile and I find myself impatient for her orders. So I'm stuck here, battling over a girl that's not convinced she even wants me to fight for her. But I still do anyways, because there's a minute chance she does.

I take a swig from my bottle and I try to keep myself from falling over and passing out right here in the woods.

I'm so fucking tired and I need blood.

That son of a bitch turned my chest into Swiss cheese and I haven't fed since. I scraped myself off the ground after Stefan punched me at the memorial and headed back into the bathroom at the church. Those bullets hurt like hell, more than they normally do, and I needed to get them out and my car was too far away.

So I stood staring in the mirror as I dug those slivers of intended murder from my flesh. All I could think was, "At least it was me and not her."

I probably should have just given her bag to Stefan so he could give it back to her, but I kept it. It was a wonderfully acceptable excuse for me to go there and check on her and I needed to make sure she was alright after feeding on Matt.

I was never going to talk to her, I was just going to drop her stuff off and go after I confirmed that she wasn't throwing up or crying. That's it. But I didn't have a choice in abandoning my pretense of invisibility. That's what happens when the person you would die for willingly kills her soul because it was hurting her too much to allow it to live on.

I take another drink and try to distract myself from the shiver that just raked over me.

I still can't believe she did it. I'm usually the master of pragmatic prediction, but it's Elena. She's 98% compassion and 2% stubbornness and without her benevolence she's a hardened shell that only carries rage and bitterness. I don't blame her for it, but I never want to see her like that again.

I had placed her bag on her vanity, taking out the ruined clothes and glaring at the teddy bear that gets to share her bed when I heard her laughing through the locked door. That's when I knew I had to go in there. It wasn't Elena's laugh and my stomach filled with acid that bubbled all the way up into my throat.

But I wasn't sure and I didn't want to believe it, so for the first time I can recall I actively sought out and welcomed denial. The truth was all the more visible when she didn't jump at my presence. She should have been blushing and screaming at me while shielding herself with that cheap, plastic curtain. I was openly staring at her while she danced under the water, but her pulse never wavered.

I knew what I was seeing at that point, but I gave myself thirty seconds to look at her. I needed to see how beautiful she was, to recall how it feels when she kisses me like she loves me. I made myself recognize exactly what was worth saving, so I could somehow find the strength to fight her, to break her.

But she may as well have staked me when she kissed me, because it felt like she had killed me. There was nothing behind those divine lips. No want, no need, just chilling blankness. It felt like Katherine and I wanted to be sick.

I was actually worried for a moment that I wasn't kissing Elena. Again. It was too close to memory. But somewhere behind the coldness in her eyes was a plea for help and I knew who was standing in front of me even as she laughed at my grief.

And as livid as I was, there was no way on earth I was letting her out of my sight. Not when I knew what she was capable of while running away and in that much pain. I couldn't let her cross a line she wouldn't make it back from and it's a fucking miracle that I got there before she killed her brother.

I smile to myself. I wonder what she's making of the fact that I got into the shower with her. It probably wasn't the most appropriate choice of action considering the situation. But I wasn't leaving that house until I had her back and she wasn't going to come out of that damn bathroom until she was good and ready.

And if I was going to have to break her, I needed to be as near to her as I could get. I couldn't allow any space between us, because when she eventually fell off the cliff I was going to shove her over, I had to be close enough that I could also catch her.

So I stripped off my clothes and got in beside her.

I needed to make her to understand in every way I could think to express that no matter what she did, what she said, I would never leave her and I wasn't going to let her push me away.

"And you know good and damn well I don't do the whole romantic-sentiment bullshit," I snap and amend, "not that I won't, if I have to. I just don't know what the hell to say to her without feeling like a total pussy and… Ric, I just don't know what it's going to take to get her to finally admit what I know she's feeling. I can stop her tears, I can make her laugh, I can get her to feel again…but I can't fucking get her to say it.

I take another drink and grin sourly. I never thought that was how I would be undressing in front of her the first time I did it, but I guess it figures. Everything with us is always so fucked up, always so out of order.

_I love you, you hate me._

_I kiss you, you hit me._

_You touch me and I leave. _

Not that I wanted to this time.

Damn my asshole brother. He always ruins everything.

I fucking had her. Ready, willing, delightfully bare, her legs around my waist and my mouth against her skin. If his stupid ass hadn't shown up I could be in her bed right now, devouring that luscious little body while hearing her scream my cursed name. Instead, I'm sitting in a graveyard and trying to drink away the knowledge of how perfectly her fingers fit around my cock.

"I bet you're laughing your ass off, man," I chuckle to myself. "I would be. And if you're talking to anybody on the other side you better not say shit about this," I warn. "I'll find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you again if I find out you ever hinted a word of this to anybody."

I didn't want to leave her to suffer his wrath alone, but if he had caught me there it just would've escalated things from bad to even worse. I had parked my car two blocks away and ran the remaining distance to her window. I didn't want her to hear me pull into the driveway with her now-heightened hearing before I snuck into her room. I'm so stupidly grateful for that random stroke of genius.

He's already furious about the blood sharing and he would have ripped her apart if he discovered her nude, wet with sex and me there in a fresh shirt and smelling like her body wash. My brother may be stupid, but he can still add two plus two.

I take another gulp of whiskey and try to swallow my rage. I owe him one hell of a fucking beat down, fully equipped with power tools that are ideal for permanent maiming. I still don't even know what he said or did to push her to the point that she flipped the switch on her humanity. I never got an answer.

I wondered as she dried and dressed me if their "relationship" was over, again. That was the only explanation I could think of that would drive her to that and to freely kiss and touch me while prancing around in my clothes like it was no big fucking deal.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Mother-fucking Twilight Zone.

"It's just…" I sigh and wince. "I can't fucking say this shit to anybody else but you and now you're dead."

I scrub my hand over my face and through my hair, my head hanging in embarrassment even though I'm crying alone.

I take another swig from my bottle and relish the burn that's singing down my throat.

I knew that with him at her house it was the clearance I needed to get back to my own. I needed to wash the smell of her off me just to be safe, which really fucking blows. I changed my clothes for the same reason and I now have two shirts that are never getting washed again.

Then I started waiting for her message.

_"He's gone."_

_"We broke up."_

_"Come back, Damon."_

Something…

Nothing.

Instead, I get a text from my brother telling me to meet him. I was practically ecstatic. I was more than ready to confront him about her. I was ready to tell him she didn't want him anymore. I was even prepared to let him hit me again for my betrayal. I'm not going to pretend that she hasn't been blatantly cheating on him with me. I don't regret it, but he deserves the chance to try and kick my ass for it. And I would want to fucking _kill him_ if it was the other way around, but I still can't help it. I can't resist her.

But he wasn't alone when I arrived to declare my claim on her and I didn't know what the hell was going on. He had gathered the whole raggle-taggle fang gang and I couldn't believe he wanted to duke it out with an audience. Whatever, fine with me. Even though it's none of their fucking business.

My heart leapt when I saw her, then plummeted when she didn't come to me. She stayed right next to him and that's when I knew.

They weren't broken up. She didn't leave him. She chose him, again.

Another drink and it feels like it's burning a hole in my stomach. Too bad it won't just blister its way through me and leave nothing behind for her to keep trampling on. And he didn't call me there to confront me, because he still didn't know she was falling in love with me. She didn't tell him shit.

I empty the bottle and open the second one I brought, because I am nothing if not an excellent planner.

"You just…you always knew how to be a friend and dick at the same time, so we could actually talk about this crap without braiding each other's hair and shit."

I tilt my head and the bottle back and let it pour into me, the few tears that had dared to escape rolling off my cheeks.

"Too bad you couldn't teach that to my fuck-head of a brother," I shake my head and drink again.

He never ceases to amaze me. As soon as I was there that son of a bitch dared to lecture me about grieving and funerals and it was all just one big load of bullshit. It's the same old humanity act he plays whenever she's around.

I open my throat and chug my drink to keep myself from shattering the glass refuge in my hand.

"Do you know what he's doing? They're floating lanterns in the sky. Can you believe that? Japanese lanterns are a symbol of letting go of the past," I say like I'm reading it off the Wikipedia page dipshit no doubt learned it from.

"Well, here's a newsflash: we're not Japanese," I spit out mockingly and take another swig. I'm blowing through this bottle in record time and I should've brought a third. Damn it.

Fuck him anyways. I don't need a memorial to mourn and I'm not numb to the fact that I had to watch my best friend die. I just don't need a pack of teenagers watching me break down about it. I'm the only one they halfway look up to now and I never wanted to fill that role but I don't have a choice. She needs me to be that for them.

"You know what they are? Children. Like lighting a candle is going to make everything okay or even saying a prayer… Or pretending Elena is not going to end up just like the rest of us murderous vampires…"

I can still see the hips that were freely swaying under running water, but they were dancing to the tune of her deadened cries. And it wouldn't matter how long she stood there, she was never going to be able to just rinse off her pain.

At least she knows that now, something that Stefan never figured out. His first reaction is always to run and bury everything that he can't handle and it pisses me off to no end that he would rather live with his head in the sand than just be the fucking man she needed him to be.

And he is such a manipulative piece of shit that I'm almost glad I got his girl to fuck him over behind his back. Because he didn't want to grieve, he just wanted her to think he did while rattling off a catalog of all the people I've killed since I've come to town. And every single one of those assholes that I've saved at least once had no problem playing along.

"Stupid, delusional, exasperating little children…"

Fuck them. She knows who I am, what I've done, and it hasn't stopped her.

But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to stand there and listen to that shit without reminding her of all the lives he's stolen, how she was nearly one of them, and of that damn list she saw in Chicago.

I don't have to stoop to his level, so I left.

She stayed.

"And I know what you're going to say," I placate the empty air I'm talking to. Yeah, it's official. She's driven me far past the point of sanity.

"'It makes them feel better, Damon.' So what? For how long? A minute? A day? What difference does it make?"

I get up. I can't handle sitting still anymore and if I move around the whiskey I'm chugging will fuck me up even faster. Win win.

"Because in the end," I say trying not to let my voice break, though it does anyways. "When you lose somebody, every candle, every prayer, is not going to make up for the fact that the only thing that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody you cared about used to be…"

That's all I have left anymore, holes that I'll never be able to fill with empty chairs and untouched drinks. That can't be packed with unwashed shirts and still and silent cell phones.

"And a rock, with a birthdate carved into it that I'm pretty sure is wrong," I say with a roll of my eyes and sitting back down, completely mentally and emotionally exhausted.

"So, thanks, friend," I taunt. "Thanks for leaving me here to babysit, 'cause I should be long gone by now."

And I should. 'Cause that was the damn deal I made with the devil I call my brother.

"I didn't get the girl, remember? I'm just stuck here fighting with my brother and taking care of the kids… You owe me big."

I drink again and set the bottle on his headstone, leaving enough inside for him as if he was still here with me. I get up and take the first small step of many more to come, because I hate this damn day and I'm going the fuck home.

I stumble all the way back to my empty bed. Unconditionally alone and not a damn thing to be done about it.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

One small step for me, one giant leap into the well of cowardice.

I didn't say it. I didn't do it. I walked away and I'm still walking.

I tried, but I failed. I told Stefan I wanted to go back to his house to talk. I couldn't stomach the idea of him being anywhere near the bathtub that held such intimate memories of me alone with his brother. When we got there I let him rant and rave about honesty and betrayal. I didn't say anything, I just let him blame me for all the things he did know and all the things he didn't.

When I did speak I wanted to scream about broken promises, abandonment and priorities. I wanted to tell him that I know all about trust and how it feels to be repeatedly lied to. And I know how much it hurts when the person you love tries to kill you.

But all I could say was, "I'm sorry."

I didn't have a right to counter, because he was right. I may not have tried to kill him, but I've placed Damon's needs above his, I've lied to him, I've cheated and I've broken his heart.

I couldn't stop crying. And I'm so sick of crying. I'm so tired, of everything. So I let him take me to that "funeral" because I needed a break from the never ending guilt. I was weak, I saw a temporary relief and like the coward I am, I took it.

But Stefan was also right and as much as I didn't want to, I needed to make myself grieve. I needed to mourn all that had been ripped from my life over the past two days. Friends dying, me drowning, my lost possibilities and open future. It all changed so fast and ignoring it isn't going to change who I am now.

I can't stop worrying about Damon. He has no idea what the hell is going on. I didn't tell him my plan to cut myself free so he could finally claim me and he doesn't know how I feel. But I saw it when he arrived; he was undeniably hurt. I hadn't gotten a chance to speak with him since he disappeared from my house. I had been fighting with Stefan the whole time. And as much as I wanted to go to him as soon as I saw him, I couldn't.

I hadn't separated myself from his brother and when I broke up with Stefan it needed to be because he and I weren't right, not because of how I feel about Damon. It's the only chance I have of trying to do this with inflicting the least amount of damage and it's the truth. But if I had jumped up and wrapped Damon in my arms where I can keep him safe and where I feel at home, that's all Stefan would ever see. I couldn't let that happen.

So I stayed where I was and I ended up hurting Damon instead. I'm so disgusted and I hate the fact that if I don't hurt one, I'm killing the other. He doesn't deserve that and I know he doesn't understand.

Then those names…

That was so unfair.

I wanted to slap Stefan for that Zach comment. He was related, but barely, and Zach wasn't his uncle. He lost him and I'm sure he cared, but what he was really doing was taking a cheap shot at Damon and all three of us knew it.

My heart broke for him when Jeremy mentioned Alaric. I saw his face fall as he shifted uncomfortably and he didn't need that tonight. He's had a long, awful day and I know he just needs it to be over. I wish I could've just taken him home and tucked him in his bed, putting him in one of the few places he's happy so he could just sleep.

I hope he went home after he left so his dreams could wipe away the stress of the day that I've drug him through. But he probably went to a bar and got drunk, which is the last thing he needs to be doing. But he's Damon and he's hurt and that's how he deals whether I like it or not.

Neither he nor his brother handle being upset all that well. I don't even want to think about what Stefan's doing right now.

After everyone left the funeral we stayed at the school. I think he knew what I was ready to say because he didn't even give me the chance. He looked at me with those sweet green eyes of his and he started to cry. I couldn't stop from crying with him, our silent tears falling together.

He took my hands as he told me he was sorry and that he hadn't been there for me. He said he understood why I was ready to give up, but that he still wasn't and he never would be. He bravely named every transgression that I was holding against him and he never uttered a single excuse.

But everything he was torturing himself over was destroying me too. I still love him and he was breaking in front of me under the weight of his regret.

I wanted to only feel the soft whispers of his voice and how they drift around me when we're alone in my darkened bedroom. I wanted the comfort of knowing that his hands were still safe, just as they were when we learned and played, first discovering each other.

He wiped my tears and his, telling me through shaky breaths that he had promised he would love me forever and it was a vow he'd never break. The lure of blood, the strength of compulsion, they couldn't compare to how he felt because it was greater than all things that can't be denied or controlled.

The truth in his eyes was clear as he tried to pour hope into me. He was giving me all that I had asked for, but it still wasn't enough.

I sobbed harder, flooded with the repulsive feeling of both relief and remorse.

The resentment was still there, piercing the place he was frantically trying to reach. And I couldn't restrain the fear of knowing how capable he was of breaking my heart if I were to allow it to remain in his grasp.

Then he said the thing that shook my whole world.

He said as justified as my anger was, I was also emotionally overwhelmed. He pleaded for me to consider if I would react the same if I wasn't newly transitioned. If instead of being the end, it would just be another fight. We had come so far and overcome so much and he didn't understand what had finally driven me away.

I was furious at first. How dare he tell me I was over-reacting? But I've loved him enough that I had to consider if he could be right…

I'm exhausted beyond compare and I couldn't even make myself think anymore.

It's too wearing. Too demanding. But I didn't have a choice. My mind flickered as it pressured me to remember everything that I've survived and all that I didn't over the last 48 hours.

Death, life, guilt, grief, love, wrath, indifference, change…

It's too much for any one person to endure and that's all I am. Just one small girl. A tiny frame with thin arms that aren't long enough to hold all I want. And my legs may be strong, but they're buckling under the strain of my overwhelmed heart.

My strings of reason were unraveling and twisting into fresh knots.

I collapsed against his chest, tears flowing faster as all my doubt and fatigue stole my will to fight. It doesn't negate all that I feel for Damon. There's nothing that can revoke a bond that strong. But everything is already such a mess and how many times can I change my mind and still expect to have choices to make?

_I love you, I hate you._

_I want you, I'm done. _

_It will always be you…_

_But I also want him._

These aren't the thoughts of the sane and steady, secure in conviction and fierce in belief. It's confusion, hesitation. It's an unwillingness to commit.

I'm sick from knowing that it's true: I'm not stable enough to make these decisions.

He begged me for time, asking that I let life settle before I declared my answer. So I wiped my face as I nodded and agreed and then I walked away. He didn't follow me.

My feet knew where I was going before I did, because it's where I always go when I'm lost. But once I was there, I didn't know what to say.

I've spent so much time in the cemetery, talking to my parents' graves. It was my only comfort after they died; the thought that they could still hear me even buried in the ground. And usually when I speak I can hear their voices in my mind, telling me what I know they'd say. Soothing me with encouragement and parental understanding.

I didn't get that tonight, because I couldn't find my voice. I stepped into the wooded resting place and I fell straight to my knees. I didn't have the strength to stand once I saw the bottle on Alaric's headstone, where he was laid next to Jenna.

Damon was here, alone. Grieving, with no one to hold him. He always tells me that I'm not alone, that he's there for me, but I haven't done the same for him. He doesn't have to do this alone either, but sometimes I wonder if he wants to.

I made myself stand and go to where he had been, sitting on the bench that overlooks the lost and holding his bottle in my hands. I swear I could still feel the warmth from where his fingers gripped the glass.

He didn't finish it and I'm sure that was a salute towards his friend. And I didn't want to dishonor the gesture, but I couldn't stop myself. I brought it slowly up to my mouth, laying my lips in the same place his were as I afforded myself a single sip.

I could barely swallow as I began to cry and I haven't stopped. There's nothing else to do. I can't go forward in good conscience and I don't know how to go back. I take a deep breath and try to settle myself. I can't fall apart. I have to learn how to be strong and stable so I can find the answers they need. That's the only way not to hurt them anymore than I already have.

It's our only hope.

I got up and placed the bottle back where he left it, making my feet carry me forwards. Each step is harder than the last as I walk the familiar path towards the road that will carry me home.

Home.

I should go home. I'm tired and I'm ready to leave this day behind. I know what waits for me there. My teddy bear is propped between my pillows, my unlocked window that plays the gateway into my private place.

I leave the street and cut across the woods that protect the house, my feet moving faster. It's silent in the trees, the creatures knowing they are the prey and quieting their presence. They don't want to be found.

I instinctively do the same; I don't want to be found either. And I don't know if I'm sharing these woods with anyone else, but I hope I'm not. I slow as the outline of the house reaches me. It looks warm and inviting, even though it's dark. I take one small step to clear the tree line and I'm home.

I stop my steps and still my breath. I need to hear and I don't want to be heard. I don't know how many souls are inside. I listen. One heart, beating slowly, evenly. It's so quiet I can barely catch it between the soft intakes of air that are pausing every few seconds.

The sounds from the room are drifting to me through the open balcony door. I know what's inside, what's waiting for me.

Three small steps and I push, the power in my legs carrying me up and over the railing that separates him from the unknown below. I land soundlessly and carefully make my way inside to his haven. The only thing disturbed is the air in the room.

Its occupant is still, splayed out on his stomach, a white sheet draped over him but only to his hips. My eyes trail the line of his long revealed spine and sweep over his shoulders, finally making their way down the arms holding the pillow that is cradling his head.

His heart and breath are still steady in their unawareness and I've never seen his muscles so relaxed. I don't want to disturb him, he's so peaceful. That's all I want, the joy I feel from witnessing his rare serenity. I want to see his face, to see if the lines of stress and exhaustion that have been plaguing his eyes have finally vanished. But he's turned away from me, so I don't have a choice. I have to move.

I still haven't taken a breath since before I entered his room and my predator body is aware of my wish to remain unheard. It tells my feet how to take small and quiet steps as I cross behind the bed so I can see him from the other side.

I stop and look as I smile, leaning my body and my head against the wooden post of the expansive bed that contains my blessing and my curse.

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**A/N: All right, so there it is... But we're still not at the end! Technically we have reached the end of the episode, but kinda how I started a bit pre-4x02, we're going to push a little further into the night of this long ass crazy day these two have been through (and I have promises I fully intend to keep.) So, if you don't hate me, please follow my dears, because we've got a little ways further to go before we wave good-bye to the thing I never planned to write, but I'm so glad I did.**

**-Goldnox**


	11. The Rules of Engagement

**A/N: Hello my sweets! Sorry for the long delay: life. suck. blah. ANY-CHUCKLES - As promised, here is the next installment. Full of lots of goodies. Rated M and a little beyond. Please be 18 if you're reading this (honor system folks, if you're not, please don't tell me.) See explicit warning below if you feel you may possibly need a better explanation of warning, if not, bypass due to tiny spoiler. **

**TONS AND TONS OF HIGH FIVES TO EVERYONE WHO HAS READ AND CONTINUED TO FOLLOW ALONG, INCLUDING ANONYMOUS GUESTS THAT MAKE MY WORLD GO ROUND. Y'ALL ROCK.**

**MASSIVE THANKS to the bestest beta, Trogdor19, who is so tender with my ego, but wonderfully tough on my words. *Hugs***

**Episode Point of reference: We have left the episode behind, and we are into the night between 4x02 and 4x03. Feel free to hit back to refresh on how Elena ended up in a certain bedroom. Enjoy!**

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**EXPLICIT WARNING: **Okay, so we are rated very M in this chapter, including the presence of anal sex. If this offends, that is not my intention. Ever. Feel free to skip ahead until you see "He lays still, struggling for breath." after it starts and you'll be in the clear.

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**ELENA POV**

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**The Rules of Engagement**

"Shoes…" he breathes, his words carried towards me by the breeze sneaking in through the open balcony door.

"I'm sorry?" I smile though I know he can't see. His eyes are still closed.

"Take off your shoes before you get in bed, I don't want dirt in the sheets. Unless you're going to stand there all night."

I try not to laugh as I slip off my Converse and pull back the sheet to climb in with him. As soon as my weight shifts to the mattress a long arm falls over my waist and pulls, curling me into him with my back against his chest. His arms are locked around me in a comforting hug, his face buried in my hair and nuzzling my neck.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispers.

"Didn't try…"

"Hmm…" he rumbles, breathing deeply. "Why were you drinking whiskey?"

"I don't know," I shake my head. "I just…I needed to. I still left some for him, I promise."

"It's fine, Elena. Don't worry about it," he sooths. "But if you're gonna drink, I'd rather you be here when you do," he teases, nibbling on my ear. "That way I can take full advantage of your lowered inhibitions."

"You wouldn't…"

"You sure about that?" he asks in the husky voice that makes my knees weak, pulling me tighter against him.

I nod confidently and he chuckles, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm right or I'm wrong.

"You're not mad?" I ask him a minute later.

"No, I just don't like you drinking alone in a cemetery in the middle of the night when there are big bad vampires roaming the woods."

"Maybe I was the big bad vampire in the woods," I say and I feel him brush my hair back before placing a kiss on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I say softly. "I guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought…"

"Elena, you can wake me up like this anytime you want," he says happily, his body shaking with soundless laughter. "And if I was anyone else, they would never know. Sweetheart, you weren't even breathing."

"Then how did you know I was here?"

"How do you know when I'm in your room?" he counters.

"I don't…"

"Yes, you do," he says quietly, the smile evident in his voice. "Your heart starts racing before I even scare you."

"Jerk."

"How do you know, Elena?"

"I…I feel you," I confess. "I can't explain it, but I know. Even if you're just outside, I know you're close."

"Hmm," he rumbles again, nuzzling my neck and breathing deeply.

I take a breath with him and let his scent flood me, bleeding out the tension from my muscles and the stress from my mind. I listen quietly as our heartbeats blend, pooling into one slow and steady rhythm.

"Tired?" he murmurs and I nod my head. "So go to sleep…"

"I can't…I shouldn't," I say with disappointment.

I want to go to sleep. I'm so comfortable that I've hit the place where I can't feel my body as it stills in peace and I know if I move I'll lose this perfect position. But I'm not supposed to be here and I can't be found, for all our sakes.

"Which is it really?"

I don't answer and I don't have to. He already knows. His arms tighten.

"Stay with me tonight, Elena," he says quietly.

"Damon…"

"He won't be back before dawn," he says in such a whisper that I barely hear it. "It's just…today was a really bad day and I'd feel a lot better if you were close. I want you with me, Elena. All of you."

I want to say yes, I need him close to me just as much as I know he does.

But I need to say no. I should say no.

I roll over in his arms, laying my head over his heart as our legs tangle beneath the sheets.

"What about tomorrow?" I dare to ask.

I'm hoping he'll tell me that tomorrow will be simpler, that all the reasons and all the problems will just disappear.

But I know he won't. We both know better.

And I wish I could tell him that if I stay with him tonight, then I'll be in his bed for all the nights to follow.

But I can't promise him that. I don't know that.

As much as I want to be here, I don't know what the future holds because I already decided that I wasn't deciding anything right now. And when I do say yes to him completely, I need to be ready to say it forever. I won't risk doing to him what I've done to his brother.

"It'll be the same as it was yesterday," he tells me gently, his fingers twirling my hair while his other hand rubs tiny circles on my back. "You'll still be with him and I'll still love you."

"I can't do that to you, Damon."

"You can if I'm asking you to. It's okay, Elena."

"It's not okay," I say, trying not to succumb to the tears I'm sick of crying. "How can you even say that?"

"Because I remember what it feels like to have the whole world change. It's scary and overwhelming and I'm not going to push you now," he says softly. "I asked you to make a choice you weren't ready to make and it didn't exactly turn out in my favor. So I'm not asking again until I already know the answer and tonight is not that night."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, ashamed.

"It's all right. But I have to accept the possibility that it may always be him, so all I'm asking for is one night. No boundaries, no obstacles, no restraint. Just a few hours of us, alone."

"Won't that just hurt more?"

I can't imagine that he would ever be able to watch me with his brother if I give in to his request. I don't know how he could ever survive that.

"Yes and no. I'm not going to deny it won't be hard, but I'm a big boy, Elena. I'll be fine. And I do love you," he adds with a kiss to my hair.

"How can you love me?" I whimper. "I'm cruel and I'm selfish."

"Lest we not forget stubborn," he teases.

"I'm serious, Damon."

"Elena," he says with a tired sigh, "you're not perfect and I don't want you to be. You drive me insane and you piss me off, but…ugh," he grunts and lightly tickles me. "I can't believe you're making me talk about my feelings."

I don't say anything, just smile again as I wait for him to continue.

"There are a hundred reasons why," he says seriously. "It's who you are and who I am when I'm with you. It's how you've changed me and who I want to be for you. But it's mostly for the reasons I can't explain. This is it for me," he says with a gentle squeeze and unfiltered honesty. "Even if it'll never be for you."

"Damon…"

"And if you want to go, I understand. I just don't want you to. I know it's selfish, but tonight…I need you, Elena."

"I know," I whisper, because I do.

If I say yes, leaving will be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do. I know I'll hurt him and I'll hurt me too, but I can't find the will to say no to him. And at least this time I'll have every opportunity and all the freedom I need to try to make it up to him beforehand; to make him feel as loved as I can while I'm able. It won't ever be enough, but I have to try.

"Yes," I agree quietly.

"Elena, are you sure?"

I nod.

"Then I need you to promise me something."

I'm instantly terrified, so I don't say a word.

"You already know how I feel, where I stand. I can't pretend I won't tell you again, but no matter what I need you to not say it back, even if you want to."

"What?" I ask in shock, sitting up to look at him fully.

"Promise me," he says again steadily, contradicting the need in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow will be hard enough and I can't take that on top of everything else."

"Then I should go…" I say and turn away to leave his bed. I won't cause him this much pain. I've already hurt him too much.

"No," he commands and pulls me back so I'm pinned underneath him, his weight pressing me deep into his mattress where I can't escape. "I want you to stay, but I just can't hear it. Not tonight, not yet. Please, promise me, Elena."

I search his eyes as I consider. I don't want to agree. I want him to know that he's loved and I do love him. But how am I supposed to make him understand when he's begging me not to say the words?

I can't believe he's asking me this, but at the same time I understand. When I do tell him, I don't want him to question whether it was because I was caught up in a blood rush or in the haze of sex. He deserves to have the certainty that it's nothing but the absolute truth.

And if I were to tell him tonight, there's no guarantee that he can hear it tomorrow. He has every right to know that I'm only saying it to one of them.

"I promise," I agree, cupping his face with my hands.

"Thank you," he sighs, his eyes closing in relief as he rests his forehead against mine.

I wrap my arms around him, leaning up so I can rub my cheek against his.

"Sorry," he whispers. "I can go shave."

"No," I insist quickly, leaning back to smile at him. "I like it," I tell him and he lifts an eyebrow in surprise, smirking at the truth I know he sees in my eyes.

I feel a tug behind my knee and we blur, his speed amazing me even with my heightened senses. I find myself sitting up, my legs around his waist and my hands in his hair.

"I'm not going to hold back," he whispers, kissing my cheek and making my whole body melt into him.

"I don't want you to."

I sigh as his lips slowly travel to my jaw and down my neck. I feel the tip of a deadly fang trace the vein that he's entered before and I wait impatiently for the pleasure from his bite. It doesn't come.

"I may not be gentle," he says, his voice rougher.

"Good," I gasp between strangled breaths, his breath trickling down my shirt and in between my breasts.

Hands that were on my back move to my hips, forcing me closer so I can feel how much he wants me. His mouth brushes my ear, his words a nearly silent growl that sends shivers down my spine.

"I am not him."

I take his face in my hands and make him look at me.

"I never wanted you to be," I promise with quiet conviction.

His mouth finds mine and our agreement is sealed.

I give myself completely to his lips, touching them with my tongue as I ask for permission to enter. He admits me, parting them with a groan and filling me with the only air I ever want to know.

I can't seem to remember my name as I focus on his touch, his fingertips grazing the skin just above my jeans. They tickle and brush me as they crawl their way up my sides, taking my shirt with them as they climb. He pulls it gently over my head before tossing it aside, his mouth reclaiming mine the moment I'm free.

I need to taste his skin so I do, nipping and kissing my way down to his shoulder so I can bite him with blunted teeth. I feel him unhook the clasp on my back, slipping his hands under the straps and sliding them forward off my arms so he can throw my bra away. I have no idea where it landed, but I couldn't care less.

We blur and I'm on my back again, my arms and legs enclosing him as I pull and beg for more. His mouth is demanding all of me and I want him to take it all and leave nothing left. I realize I'm still wearing my jeans, but this time I won't let anything come between us. I reach to undo them but before I can, he captures my wrist, stopping me.

"That's my job," he growls into my ear.

"Then what are you waiting for?" I pant eagerly.

"Patience, Elena," he laughs wickedly against my neck.

"Since when are you patient?"

"I have plenty of patience," he scoffs. "In the right circumstances," he adds in a whisper, laying a kiss over my heart.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Oh, you will," he says playfully and takes my nipple into his mouth. He sucks and pulls, hardening it further before pinching it between his teeth.

I gasp at the sensation and he pulls away with a smug grin. I want him to do it again and harder, but he's just watching me. His eyes slightly narrow as something crosses his mind, but before I can ask what it is he's crawling up and over me, reaching to turn on the lamp on his bedside table.

"What the matter?" I tease, running my hands over his toned chest. "Going blind in your old age, Grandpa?"

"Grandpa?" he asks incredulously. "You're gonna pay for that one, Elena," he nips at my ear.

"Careful, wouldn't want you to break a hip."

"The only hips," he mumbles, kissing his way back down my chest. "That I'd be worried about," he presses into my stomach. "Are yours."

My giggle cuts off as I feel a seam rip on the side of my pants.

"Damon!" He bites and growls against my hip and I can't remember what I was saying. I feel the seam split further and suddenly I remember. "You can't rip my clothes off," I laugh.

"Sure I can," he smiles innocently. "And don't act like I can't just buy you more."

"And how am I supposed to get home without pants?"

"Who says that wasn't part of my plan?" he cocks his head at me, but I hear the button on my jeans come undone and I gasp before I can help it.

Damon's eyes widen as his hand covers his mouth, throwing me the most exaggerated look of fake shock that I've ever seen. I'm in glorious trouble.

It's clear he has every intention of only going at his own maddening pace and I'm completely at his mercy. I'm not entirely sure of all that I've signed up for and I'm not sure I even care as long as it means that I get to stay.

But whatever it is, it won't be over quickly.

He proves me right as he unzips me; my heart racing steadily faster as he slowly and deliberately unlocks each metal tooth, one by one. By the time it's finally open, I'm struggling for air.

"Breathe, honey," he whispers, kissing the lace front of my exposed panties and sending my pulse up even further. "Elena, do you want me to stop?" he asks gently.

"No," I shake my head, tilting my hips up in permission for him to continue undressing me.

He tugs on my pants, but they don't move they're so tight. His whole body shakes with laughter as he folds the top over, peeling them off and down my legs before tossing them to the floor, inside out.

"How do you even put those on?" he smiles at me, his tongue and teeth tasting the inside of my ankle. I can't help but shiver as he explores me, his hands massaging my leg that's propped on his shoulder.

"Practice," I wink as his mouth crawls up to my knee, making my desire pool brazenly.

"Mmm," he rumbles, satisfied with my response and beginning to kiss the inside of my thigh.

"Damon?"

"Hmm?"

"Rip my underwear and you'll be a dead man walking," I warn and I've never seen him laugh so hard.

He looks completely at ease, casually propping his head up on one elbow between my open legs, his hand idly petting the trail he just kissed.

"Little late for that one, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Proud card-carrying member of the undead race for 150 years, give or take."

"You pop a single thread and that card will be expired," I tell him, pointing my finger at him threateningly.

He prowls his way back up my body, his eyes locked on mine while he hooks my leg high around his hip. His kisses are deep and unhurried as his nails trail back down my skin, slipping through the small space between us and under thin lace. One confident finger slides against me, parting me gently and teasing me with the faintest touch.

"Elena, repeat after me," he whispers, pausing at my entrance.

I'm already trembling from the release that he's so masterfully building and I squirm, impatient for more and straining towards him. He doesn't move.

"American Express Black," he grins and dips into me, curling his long fingers and grazing his thumb over my clit.

My back arches clear off the bed, my whole body contracting and my inner walls squeezing him.

"Scream, baby," he growls and I do, too lost in ecstasy to fully comprehend the unfamiliar sounds that are pouring out of my mouth.

He thrusts his fingers into me with the smallest of movements, stroking me in perfect harmony with the waves of my orgasm.

I can't find the end and I don't remember him stopping, but I'm returned to reality as cold air hits me and I know that I'm now bare. I catch the faint tickle of his hair brushing against the inside of my leg and his lips surround me, kissing me where I want him most.

His tongue touches me and he moans, the vibration commanding a single wave of pleasure to ripple through me.

"Damon…I can't," I stutter as his fingers enter me again.

"You can," he whispers, his breath caressing my over-stimulated sex.

He builds me up again slowly, languidly drinking in my want and taking his time enjoying me. My screams are even louder than before as he lightly bites my clit, making me come with so much force it borders on painful.

When his lips finally pull away I'm relieved when they don't leave for long, immediately back against my skin as he kisses his way up to my mouth. His hands are everywhere; cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples, squeezing the skin at my waist. I tremble under his nails scraping over my bottom and down the back of my thighs as he wraps my legs around him.

The head of his cock brushes against me and I moan into his mouth, grabbing at him wildly in a plea for him to connect us. He pulls back and looks at me and I nod.

"Please, Damon, I need you," I beg and grip him harder, drawing lines of blood from his back.

He arches under the pain from my scratches, his hips curling forward and his swollen head entering and stretching me. I've never felt anything so right. Having him inside me is like finally coming home after never even knowing that you were ever lost.

His eyes roll back with a groan as he rocks further into me, but he still hasn't given me all of him yet. I'm sure he can tell how tight I am and despite what he said, I know he's trying to be gentle.

"Damon…"

"You okay?" he whispers before kissing me softly.

"Don't hold back," I tell him breathlessly.

His eyebrow lifts as he grins, kissing me roughly and I bite at his lips. He pulls back too soon, sitting up and letting his eyes rake over me. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he likes what he sees, but I don't need to. His approval of my body is as evident in his smile as it is from the steel cock that's resting against my thigh.

He catches me off guard when he grips me behind my knees and yanks me towards him, my back sliding down the sheet and leaving my arms behind to extend over my head. He spreads my legs further, opening me to him before he slams all the way into me.

My eyes pop at the glorious feeling of having him buried so deep. And I love that he doesn't hesitate as he fucks me; his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise and I still want them tighter. He wrenches me against him as he thrusts into me with no restraint and he doesn't stop and he doesn't slow until I'm screaming his name in shameless pleasure.

I don't get a chance to settle before he leans back, swinging my left leg in front of him while throwing up my right, crossing my ankles and resting them on his shoulder. I'm tighter in this new position and I marvel at seeing how good I feel to him; his head falling back with a moan while he wraps his arms around my legs to anchor himself inside me.

His strokes are slower, more concentrated, and I lose myself in feeling every inch of him as he moves and swells inside me. I don't want to know anything else but this.

He doesn't let us stay here long, uncrossing me and smoothly ducking under my left leg in a blur, switching it to his other shoulder before I even know what he's doing. I'm happy to let him command my body and he drops my right leg so it wraps around his waist, ramming into me deeper now that I'm more open to him. His swollen head hits my g spot and I try my best to contain it, but my restraint shatters violently when he begins to rub my clit.

He's still driving into me when he takes my ankle closest to him, bringing it to his mouth and pressing his lips against it. I'm not sure what he's going to do next, but I'm so pleased at his understanding that he can do whatever he wants.

I gave myself to him for tonight and I'm all his to enjoy, a concept he seems to be taking full advantage of. I know because he smiles at me just before he strikes, sinking his teeth into my vein and making me come again.

I've never had an orgasm this strong and I lose more time with each throb of release. My body is jerking with spasms and I can't open my eyes, but I don't care. I want him to have it all. To drain me dry and fuck me into nothing because there can never be a better death than this.

I hear my pounding heart and I learn I'm somehow still alive. And I'm not sure when, I don't remember, but he must have moved me. I find myself on my side, his warm body lined up behind me.

"Come here, baby," I hear him whisper as he lifts me up. It's just enough so he can slide a strong arm under me, wrapping it back over my chest and holding me to him. I find his other hand lazily trailing down my side, gliding over my breasts and stomach before parting my knees so he can enter me from behind.

His strokes into me are slower now and he's caressing my whole body as he kisses and bites at my neck and shoulder. I could make love like this forever, utterly relaxed with him taking his time as he holds and feels me everywhere he wants to. I've never felt so cherished.

I'm unconsciously lost in his rhythm, my hips moving with his in perfect harmony. I tilt further back to bring him deeper, but he slips out and brushes my forbidden entry. I gasp.

"Sorry," he whispers, but I'm so wet I already know he didn't do it on purpose.

I've never done that and I never considered I would, but the sensation was delightfully overwhelming and I can't help but to be intrigued. I rock back once more and slide him against me and this time he's the one that sucks in a breath.

"Elena?"

I don't speak. I just concentrate on the tingles that I feel from the rush of the taboo.

"Sweetheart, have you done this before?" he asks gently.

I shake my head.

"Okay, I'm going to go slow, but you have to tell me if you want to stop."

I nod, but I'm not worried. Damon would never do anything to hurt me and I would never feel secure enough try this with anyone but him.

"Try to relax, honey, and concentrate on my hands," he instructs me, so I do.

The arm across my chest is cupping my breast and playing with my nipple, rolling it and pinching in the most delicious way. His other is sliding down my belly and between my parted thighs, petting me softly but careful to avoid my clit. I'm so mesmerized by his fingers I almost forget the reason I'm focusing on them, until he brushes against me.

He's not pushing, just letting me get used to the idea and the feel of his firm length here. I'm so tight that he doesn't enter but he still thrusts slowly, leaving me periodically to rewet himself with my want. Everything he's doing feels dangerous and dirty and sexy, but it's also beautiful and incredibly intimate, all at the same time. He's claiming a part of me no one has ever reached, a place that will only ever be for him.

He touches my clit and delicately bites my shoulder and I feel his head slip inside. It hurts a little at first, but he's careful and he doesn't go too deep. I've never felt anything so intense and a part of me wonders why anything that feels this good could ever be thought to be so wrong. I don't care what people would think. It's Damon and he loves me and he never lets me feel anything but beautiful and adored.

I'm rewarded for my bravery as he leaves and wets himself once more, this time entering me easily now that I'm more relaxed. He continues to stretch me slowly, lovingly; distracting me with his touch and nibbles on my skin until he's able to enter me fully. His groans are primitive and deep as he slides into me and I find myself arching back, wanting him to fill me every way he can.

I reach behind me, threading my fingers through his hair and pressing harder against him until his pace matches mine; plunging without fear or control but never hurting me. His fingers enter my vacant entry and I'm almost complete, the only other thing I need are his teeth in my skin.

"Bite me, Damon," I whisper. "Please…"

I feel his fangs pierce my shoulder and I'm screaming and quaking and coming, squeezing his fingers in one entry and his cock in another. I can feel him trembling as he thrusts one final time, grunting loud and harsh before spilling into me.

He lies still, struggling for breath. I do too, nowhere near the point that I can comprehend all that just happened. I feel him slide out and his fingers leave me, but he doesn't move away. I snuggle back into him as he drapes his arm over me, kissing me sweetly everywhere he can while he rests behind me.

I never want to move again. I just want to sleep forever, protected by Damon's arms and exhausted from the pleasure that only he can bring me. I've never felt safer than in his bed and my mind can only think that I hope he doesn't make me go back to my house now.

I feel him get up and leave the bed and I strike my arm out to reach for him. I don't want him to leave, I need to have him beside me. He must have seen me panic because before I can call his name he grabs my hand and kisses it, leaning back over the bed and down to me.

"Stay here and I'll be right back," he whispers and kisses me, then he disappears.

I hear him start the water for a bath and I begin to fall asleep, the gentle thunder steadily lulling me into darkness. My mind slips as a dream begins and stops. It's interrupted as warm hands slide under me and lift me away from soft sheets. I gladly curl into his chest as he carries me, not caring where we're going as long as I can stay here.

Warmth slides over me as he dips my toes in the water, lowering us both carefully into the tub. I'm dreamily breathing in the rich aroma of the salts he used when his hands prop me forward and I'm confused as to why he's pushing me away, but I'm too tired to question him.

A deep sigh of relief leaves me as he combs his hands through my hair, gathering it at the base of my neck and twisting it up. Plastic scrapes my scalp and I feel the weight drop as my hair tries to fall, but it can't because he actually clipped it up for me.

No one takes care of me like he does. I don't think I even want anyone else to try, because there's no way they could do it as perfectly as him. What kind of man remembers things like this? He sets an impossibly high precedent and I doubt he's even trying.

I'm more in awe of him than ever.

"Thank you," I mumble as he leans me back against him, water and soap slick between our skin. "Why do you have hair clips?" I murmur, my voice tired and slurring.

"Because," he says quietly, running bubble coated palms all down my arms. "Someone likes to leave her stuff all over my house."

"Sorry," I smile and lightly laugh.

"You can only apologize if you stop," he breathes into my ear. "Elena, do you know what the best part of my day is?"

I shake my head, watching our hands. He has them in front of me in what reminds me of a prayer, his fingers threading over and through mine so they're encased by his.

"When I come downstairs in the morning and your lip gloss is on my coffee cup in the sink."

"Your coffee cup?" I tease, raising my eyebrow and turning slightly so I can see him.

"You only use the black one that has a chip on the bottom," he tells me, taking both my hands in one of his. "Which happens to be mine," he growls playfully, tickling my side and getting me to giggle and squirm just like he wanted.

I should probably be shocked that he knows exactly what cup I like, but somehow it doesn't surprise me one bit. He always seems to know little things like this about me.

"Why do you keep it if it has a chip in it?" I ask with a yawn, snuggling back against his chest and letting my eyes droop in comfort.

"It's complicated," he chuckles, kissing my temple.

"Tell me…"

"Sometimes," he sighs and wraps his arms around me so I'm nestled in his hold. "I'd rather have imperfection. I'm sure that doesn't make sense but-"

"No, I understand," I tell him, because I do. I love this cup for this very reason. It reminds me that everything is breakable underneath and that's what makes life so precious.

I want to ask him something else, but I don't want to upset him. I need to know though, I have to be sure.

I hate the idea that he could have just made love to me and never have been completely sure who was in his bed. She's fooled him before and I'm sure she'll try again.

"Damon, can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

I'm sure he hears how fast my heart is racing because his just began to speed up too, my worry making him nervous along with me.

"You know, I'm not real good with suspense," he teases when I don't say anything.

"And here I thought you were the master of patience?" I turn my head and nip at his jaw.

"Nice try," he laughs. "And I'm still waiting."

I take a deep breath and try to gather my courage. I'll never feel right about tonight if I don't ask.

"How do you know I'm me?"

I feel and hear him take a deep breath. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss against my neck.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, shaking his head. "I should have known that night."

"It's just-"

"You want to know how I know?"

I nod my head. I need him to tell me.

He nuzzles my neck, his breath sweeping over my bare chest. My skin instantly turns red in a warm blush, my heart beating faster.

"That's how I know," he whispers.

He extends my right arm, turning it over palm up. His fingertips graze a nearly invisible scar on the heel of my hand that I've had since I was a kid. I smile.

"And this…"

He brings my arm back so it's draped around his neck. His nails glide back down my arm, stopping to rest the pad of his finger on a freckle that lies between my breasts.

"And here…"

His hand drops lower, sliding against my wet skin and down between my thighs.

"I know who you are, Elena," he whispers and enters me.

I believe him and I'm so relieved I asked. I leave worry and questions behind, drifting through a haze of assurance and devotion. He touches me so reverently, like I'm the only person he ever wants to feel.

I need to feel him too. I sit up and turn, straddling his hips and sinking myself down onto him. There's nothing more rewarding than seeing him unable to control his reaction to me, black veins snaking around his eyes and hearing the satisfied groans leaving his lips.

I bring his hands up from my hips and lay them on my breasts, guiding them to caress me as I lean back and ride him. My body is tired and I don't have much strength, but I don't have to go fast and it doesn't take long before I feel the tingling sensation of release building again.

I'm so overwhelmed with all that's happened today. I can't help but relish in how magnificent it's been to finally be open and free with him.

A tear falls when I realize that too soon I'll have to leave and I'm heartbroken.

I don't want to go.

Damon doesn't miss a thing. His hands cup my face and guide me to him, kissing me more tenderly than he ever has before.

"Elena, look at me," he breathes shakily. "One day we will figure this out. I promise," he says, wiping my tears and pressing his mouth back against mine.

I'm trembling on top of him, but I don't know if it's because of his words or my slow, pulsing orgasm. I don't care and it doesn't matter. The only thing I need to know is that he's as close to me as possible so I can drown in the feel his heartbeat and how it matches mine.

I fall forward completely drained and he catches me, he always does. And it doesn't frighten me when he stands with me still wrapped around him, because I know I'm safe as long as he's near; my trust in him implicit. I still hold on to him with all my strength, but it's not even necessary. Damon always holds me tighter.

He doesn't take us far, setting me on his counter. He steps back to reach for a towel and I panic again, unwilling to lose him even for a moment. I dig my heels into his waist, pulling him back to me.

"Don't leave me," I whimper, burying my face in his neck.

"I'm not leaving. I'm right here," he sooths, his fingertips tracing the line of my spine.

He gasps as I reach between us, guiding him back into me. I'm exhausted but I still need him and I know he's not done and I want him to feel as wonderful as I do.

He scoots me forward so I can have all of him, his thrusts forceful in his passion.

I know he made me promise, but I can't help it. I need to tell him, he has to know the truth.

"Damon…I…"

"I know," he tells me, still refusing to let me say the words.

He pushes faster, harder, giving in to all he feels and taking what he needs from me. His hand finds mine and our rings lock, his other securely supporting my back as he drives deeper into me.

He throws our hands up against the mirror, shouting my name as he comes.

I hear it explode as our rings strike the glass, jagged reflections raining down all around us.

I wait to feel them cut my skin, but I never do.

Damon is leaning over me, breathless and completely sated. I let my eyes take in my demon savior and his flawless skin is shimmering, wet from the bath and beading with sweat and sparkling from the threat he shielded me from.

My vision slides and shifts as tears take my eyes. I blink them away, refusing to allow them to steal this from me because I've never seen anything so beautiful in all my wretched life.

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**A/N:** **All righty folks, AND WE'RE STILL NOT DONE! I have one final chapter planned, so stick around. **

**Thank you all so much for reading and following and favoriting and reviewing...just, thank you. All. Big love.**

**-Goldnox**


	12. Without A Word

**A/N: Hello best readers ever! Alrighty guys, here it is: _the final chapter_. Thank you all so much for reading! The response has been nothing short of overwhelming, and I'm so grateful, for everything. Love to all. **

**None of this story would be possible without Trogdor19, who requested and inspired me to write this, encouraged me, laughed and cried with me, and has been my rock through every word. She beta'd this chapter along with many others, and I dedicate this entire fiction to her. No one does it better than she does.**

**Episode point of reference: We are still in non-canon land, now into the morning of what would be 4x03. Enjoy!**

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**DAMON POV**

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**Without A Word**

I hear the pull of a zipper and my eyes open to daylight.

The other half of my bed is empty, the sheets tangled and mussed. They're speckled with a few splatters of our blood, a long brown hair clinging to the pillow that she slept on.

I let my other senses search for her, comforted by the simple knowledge that she's still somewhere in my room.

I breathe deep and I can smell her on the air, the dim trace of her shampoo a flawless balm for all that wants to ache.

I listen, immediately more calm at hearing the slow rhythm of her pulse drifting towards me.

I want to say her name and call her back to bed, but I can't. We're no longer alone. I can just make out the faint shuffling of feet coming from Stefan's bedroom.

I wonder if that's what woke her up, if she heard him come in.

I hope that's what it was, not that she was already leaving me while I was still asleep. I pinch my eyes shut and try to swallow my pain. She has every right to sneak out without a word. She agreed to stay, but she never said how she'd go.

I make myself re-open my eyes. I can't break yet. She's still here.

I peek further over my shoulder and it takes everything I have to control the groan that's trying to pour out of me. Lovely, beautiful, sexy and sensual Elena is standing at the foot of my bed. Her top half is bare, the long line of her spine lazily seducing me.

I let my eyes fall down toned and olive skin, stopping at the sight of her jeans resting snugly around the widest part of her hips. My perfect vision tells me they're a little looser on her right side than her left, slightly frayed from where I ripped them. Another groan swallowed and I can't remember my mouth ever being this dry.

I roll to my side and prop my head up so I can watch her, wishing like hell there was some deal-with-the-devil I could make so that I could wake up to this view every morning. I'd make it, no questions asked. I've been alive 170 years and I know it doesn't get any better than this.

I can't help but smile to myself as she shifts her weight and buttons her pants, her delightful little ass waving me good morning. I'm rewarded for my silent observation as she stretches; her right hand circling her left wrist as she raises her arms above her head, rolling her neck and lengthening her back and highlighting the supple curves of her waist.

I'm behind her before she even notices I'm awake. There's no fucking way I can be expected to maintain my distance when she's so soft and wonderfully topless, dressing in my bedroom in the hazy hours when everything is sensitive and still. And how am I supposed to restrain myself from touching her when she's glowing in the dawn that's coming in through my windows? Not possible.

My hands circle around to her stomach as my tongue finds her shoulder and I don't know how it's possible but every time I taste her, it just gets better. Her body holds some enchanting kind of magic and I'm completely fascinated.

I'll never get tired of the surprises that it keeps giving me and nothing has shocked me about a woman's body in longer than I can remember. I know all there is to know about how to glorify the fairer sex, but Elena is different and it's all new. I don't want to know anything, anyone else, ever again.

There is no one but her that could ever make me feel like this, so confident and unsure and this euphoric that I'm both. That's what it is to live on the edge, to know that you could fall either way at the slightest tilt. I'm fine with the plunge on either side, but I try to never lose the balance. That's where the sweet spot lies. That's where loving Elena allows me to live.

She startles at my presence, but then instantly melts, falling back into my hold with a comfortable sigh. I rewrap her in my arms as she brings hers down in front of us and I'm never letting go. I don't care what I said. This is where she fits, where she belongs, and we both know it.

I move to her neck and tease the vein that she loves me to drink from and she gasps, not loud enough for us to get caught, but almost.

I can't speak without risking further exposure, so I don't, bringing one finger up to her lips to signal her that we need to be quiet. She gives me the slightest of nods of comprehension and I don't know what I'm more elated about: the fact that she's letting me still touch her although my night pass incinerated with the sunrise, or that she's doing it while knowing he's back and she can't bring herself to stop.

Either way, I'm instantly hard and only getting firmer as I smell her sweet arousal at my kisses and my touch.

She's not going anywhere.

My lips trail down her perfect back as I sit on the cushions at the end of my bed. I let my hands explore her while I gently bite her hip, getting her to tremble in the way I have a feeling only I can get her to do.

Usually I make her look at me whenever things get difficult between us, piercing her with a stare that I know stops her breath. I do it because it brings me relief that there's still one thing she can't control around me and that's our normal. That's where we began and always come back to; those quiet stares where we say a hundred things without a single word.

But lately when she stares back, I'm the one that loses time and reason and I'm a little too raw from this stolen existence to take her eyes right now. They are going to hold too much love, too much understanding, too many memories of how perfect we fit together. And I don't think they would look like guilt or regret, but I don't want to chance it just in case they do.

I hide as I turn her so she's facing me, hugging her waist and nuzzling my cheek against her, relishing in the smell of her skin. It still carries the aroma of our bath and my sheets, the faintest trace of my cologne sneaking in. She smells like us and I want to breathe this in as long as I can, soaking it up into me so I can forget that this isn't our reality, this isn't our normal. This is only once.

Her fingers are combing through my hair and her heartbeat is slow and steady, beautifully even. She's totally relaxed as we silently adore one another and the idea hurts and sooths, all at the same time.

Because this is it.

This is goodbye.

Most people don't get this, they aren't this lucky. Most don't have the gift of knowing when the end is coming so they can savor every second. And I know this a blessing, but it feels like a curse.

I don't know exactly what I've traded for my stolen night with her, but whatever it is, it was worth it.

She shouldn't even still be here; she should have left hours ago. I tried to stay awake with her after I carried her from the bathroom. Not speaking, just watching each other while I ran my fingers through her hair and she sleepily traced the lines on my chest.

I've never known such peace as we lay in my bed, listening to our heartbeats combine and the sounds of the night drifting in around us. But eventually her eyes fluttered closed and so did mine in the undeniable ease of having her safe and next to me.

I've never slept better, but I didn't want to miss a minute of being with her and now it's done.

He's back, daylight is bringing in the harsh truth of the choices she hasn't made and I should be letting her go.

But I can't.

There's no way I can lose her without being inside her, tasting her, one more time. I need her, now more than ever in the face of my self-inflicted nightmare.

My lips walk across her stomach and my hands learn her, trying to memorize everything about how she feels and fits. The exact size of the space between her breasts, the dips under her ribs. They need to know so they will remember the way I can fit her entire shoulder blade in the palm of my hand, how her muscles pull when she arches into my support.

I feel a tug on my hair and I concede, pulling back to look at her though I know I shouldn't. It's just going to hurt that much more.

Our gaze meets and I was right, I shouldn't have looked. She's smiling at me, but in a way that looks heartbroken, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. I hang my head so she doesn't see, blinking to try to delete the evidence before she finds it, but it's stuck.

She tilts my face back up to her and I'm caught, her eyes focused on my traitor tear trapped in my eyelashes and my jaw locked in shame. I don't want her to witness this. I'm supposed to be stronger, strong enough. This is what I asked, for her to tear me down into nothing more than a broken thing. I'm not supposed to let her see me cry about it.

I'm almost glad we can't talk because she can't say anything. She just wipes it away gently, looking at me in empathetic understanding. Her lips press against my forehead and something inside my chest squeezes painfully. I knew this would be hard, but she's killing me with her kindness.

It would have been so much easier if she would've just run and disappeared, but she didn't. And though I'm hurting, I'm so grateful. I don't want to be angry and I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to resent her for leaving without a word and though she can't talk, she's already said so much.

I lift my chin and she comes to me, placing her mouth against mine in a kiss that is all love and tenderness and desire, desperation and defeat. That's all we are. I could spend years kissing her like this, but I can't. I don't have time and I need to hurry, this could end at any moment.

I leave her lips so I can focus on unhooking her jeans and sliding her zipper down, it doesn't make a sound. I honestly don't know how we're being so damn quiet. She was able to contain herself in the bathroom at the Grill, but I didn't realize how much she was holding in until I gave her free rein to scream last night.

I smile to myself at the memory. There's no way I could ever tire of that sound. But we have to be careful, she could reveal us just by breathing too hard. Stefan can't hear for shit thanks to his stupid animal diet, so I get the advantage there. But he is surprisingly in tune to Elena and can usually pick up on her from pretty far. Point disadvantage.

It's not going to stop me now and she's not pushing me away.

I work my hands inside her jeans, sliding them into the small space between her skin and the denim, rubbing and squeezing her hips and bottom as I separate them from their coverings. Her pants are more spandex and stretch than anything else and she has to wiggle and shimmy as I pull, helping me get them down to the tops of her thighs.

She quivers at my touch, lightly dragging my nails across her skin as I reach one arm between her legs so I have the whole top of her slender limb in my grasp. She feels so delicate under my hands, so feminine and fragile.

But she's a lot stronger than she looks. I know, because I helped train these muscles into being swift and sturdy, to kick and defend and fight. And I know how powerful they are when they're wrapped around me, pulling me into her.

My tongue greets her hip and I massage and taste her as I make my way down, revealing her an inch at a time. She grips my shoulders to steady herself as I bend her knee, cupping the back of her silky thigh and letting it rest in the palm of my hand.

She was glorious last night, letting me move and command her body in any way I pleased. She freely gave herself to me with no fear, no restraint, and I wondered if that would be over but I love that it's not. She wobbles a bit as I lift her foot just high enough that I can grab the cuff of her pants leg, pulling so it slides the rest of the way off her and letting it drop to the floor.

I turn to her other leg and repeat my movements, undressing her slowly, silently, until she's standing before me in nothing but purple lace panties. I wonder how she found them and what she thought of locating them in my jacket pocket. I snuck them in there while she was too lost in her first orgasm to notice, or at least I thought she was. Damn.

Doesn't matter, they're staying. One way or another.

I fold down the front so I can kiss her shaved skin, laying my lips just above the tiny patch of hair she left as a tease. It prickles me.

My fangs drop.

I move to her side where the fabric is thinnest, grabbing it with my teeth and pretending to fight with it, silently gnashing and shaking it before I let it pop back into place. She's shaking under silent laughter, her fingers still laced through my hair while she lets me play with her. Another reason why I love her. She's so fucking sexy and so much fun.

I flash my eyes up to her so I can give her my most devious of smiles and she matches it, a light blush rising over her breasts and up into her cheeks. She raises an eyebrow and cocks her head at me in a challenge and it's like looking in a mirror I've made this face at her so many times. But she should know better than to challenge me, because I'm gonna win.

She warned me last night not to rip them and I didn't. I was strangely obedient as I slid them down her legs while she writhed in ecstasy, though I did try to steal them. She didn't say I couldn't keep them, just that they had to remain intact.

Fuck it. She can't warn or threaten me without getting in trouble and I'm more than happy to be defiant of her silly rules. I already know all the stores I'm going to tomorrow so I can stock her top dresser drawer full of more lace; daring and sexy lingerie that I hopefully will get the pleasure of tearing off her very, very soon.

She barely moves as I swipe the tip of one fang under the band I gnawed on, slicing it apart with a snap. I'm so proud and I don't even care as I grin at her in boyish and giddy triumph, her ruined underwear falling to the floor. I wait for her to glare at me or even lightly smack me, but she just shakes her head and smiles as if she's humoring me.

I nip at her and she shivers, though she can't move away with me holding her so tight. She may be standing but she knows she's caught and she can pretend all she wants but I know how much she likes it when I'm in control. More than fine with me, there's nothing better than ruling over her body and driving it to erupt in pleasure all at my command.

I slide forward, leaving the cushions behind so I'm kneeling in front of her. If anyone could ever bring me willingly to my knees, it's the goddess before me. I hook her right leg over my shoulder and she steadies herself as I open her to me. She's still not resisting, her head falling back and arching at my touch, reveling in the feeling as I lightly drag the tip of one finger across her.

She's so wet, already silky with want. I nudge her apart so I can see her and she's smooth and luscious, pink and perfect. There's nothing on this earth more beautiful than this.

My lips circle her as I place a soft kiss to her clit, savoring her most protected gift being openly given for me to enjoy and a delectable taste that is purely Elena. I slip two fingers into her, curling and stroking the spot that I know makes her scream and just like that, she's climaxing.

She's so fucking incredible, her hand flying from my shoulder to cover her mouth, squeezing my fingers as she melts over my tongue. No one has ever come for me like she does, unable to contain herself at the slightest touch and flick.

It's so addicting to know that I can do this to her and I'd be more than happy to spend the rest of my eternity here between her legs, getting her to scream until she begs me to stop, but never releasing her because I know she still wants more.

She wants more now and I'll be damned if I deny her, especially when it comes to her wanting me inside her.

She's barely standing, supported by my hand on her hip and her leg over my shoulder, but I can tell she'd collapse if she could. No problem, I'm glad to carry her. I've done it so many times and I never get tired of supporting her feathery weight in my arms where she's enclosed in safety.

I leave her with a kiss, untangling us so I can bend her over my shoulder. She squirms as I rise, but I've got an arm locked over her legs and I'd never drop her. She should know better. I remind her with a light slap to her ass and she sucks in a breath, pinching mine back harder as I step on to the bed.

I shake my head and try to control my laugh. That's my girl, always ready to wage her own war right back at me. We're warriors she and I and it's so much fun to battle with her for dominance.

I declare supremacy as I flip her on to the bed, her back hitting my sheets and her breasts bouncing as she lands. I look over my prize with a wicked grin, her arms and hair fanned out on the pillow just above her. My inner caveman roars, ready to possess and imprint her because it knows that this is mine.

I drop to my knees, eager to claim her. But my target is devious and she scoots back, taunting me with closing her knees and beckoning me with her finger.

I don't know how she does this, snatching away the power I mistakenly thought I had and exacting control over me with nothing more than a coy twist of her finger. I don't give a fuck. I know I'll be at her bidding as long as I'm lucky enough for her to want me.

I crawl up and over her slowly, rush of need bowing to intensity as she locks her brown eyes on mine. Her smile softens as her legs wind around me under my gentle encouragement, my hands absorbing her skin as I caress the back of her thigh. She's so warm and I've never felt safer or more at home than when I'm wrapped in her trust.

Her tiny hands place themselves against my neck, guiding my mouth carefully down to hers. She presses into me deeply though her mouth is closed, pouring all the words I wouldn't let her say straight past my lips and into my soul.

I pull back so I can see her, slightly shifting so I can tenderly brush her hair back from her face. I still know that my time with her is precious, but I want to do this is as unhurried as I can. I won't rush my last time with her, no matter how deep she cuts her nails into my back. I fucked like she wanted me to last night, but I need her to make love to me before I let her go.

She nuzzles into my palm as I cup her cheek in my hand, sweeping my thumb over her lightly parted lips. I wait until she looks at me. I need to make sure she sees what's forbidden for her to hear.

"I love you," I mouth to her, promising her with all I am and still without a word.

Her nod and smile are painfully sweet as she soundlessly forms back, "I know."

I lay my mouth to hers, connecting in every way we can. I close the last remaining distance between us, pressing slightly so I'm finally and perfectly inside her.

She gasps into my mouth, taking the air that I only breathe for her. I'll let her have anything she wants: my body, my heart, my life, as long as it's hers.

I rock deeper into her as slow as I can, losing myself in the feeling of her surrounding and cradling me, welcoming me into the only place I ever want to be.

Her advances against me are just as measured and it feels like she wants to cherish every second of me being hidden in her. Our tender strokes are in perfect harmony and it's so intimate, so passionate, so much more beautiful than I ever thought possible. Part of me always knew it could be, but I know that everything this is, it could only ever be like this with her.

There's nothing like making love to Elena, feeling her body rise and fall under me, the way her breath catches at each of my thrusts, having her tremble with my mouth open to hers. I'm not even trying to get her to orgasm yet, I'm just focusing on enjoying and kissing her. But it doesn't take much and she's already contracting and throbbing around me, holding me impossibly tighter within her.

I'm drinking her silent screams and I'm trying to hold on, but it's impossible when I can feel just how much she needed me.

My muscles tighten and jerk with hers as tingling warmth surges through every inch of my shaking body. She devours my moans, propelling my release into her as deep as I can manage, knowing I need it to flow and fill her all the long and twisting way into her elusive heart.

Breath and time realign with thought and reality and I realize I'm still on top of her. She's holding my head to her breasts, her fingers braided through my hair and her legs locked around me, keeping me inside of her.

I never want to move again, but I'm too heavy and I know I should. There's no way she can breathe with all my weight against her. I place a kiss on her skin and try to draw back so I'm supporting myself but she doesn't let me go, gripping me tighter and pulling so I'm somehow closer than before.

I don't even try to hide my smile, just letting myself collapse into the arms of the woman I love. If this is where she wants me, this is where I'll stay.

I never understood cuddling before, but now it makes perfect sense. There's something about savoring the warmth of her skin, slick with sweat and flush from the ecstasy that I brought her. She's never been more beautiful.

We lay for a while just holding each other, ignoring the clock that's counting down the minutes to the inevitable.

It strikes as she takes a deep breath, laying a kiss to my hair.

No, not yet.

I'm up in a blur and have her scooped up in another, walking with her cradled to my chest before she ever realized we were moving.

I strut with my usual confidence, acting like I'm ignoring the look that she's giving me, but I know she sees me smugly peeking at her from the corner of my eye. She's silently laughing and shaking her head, crossing her arms in the Elena version of what constitutes mocking tolerance.

The absolute best part is that I know for all her exaggerated huffing, she actually doesn't care. She's still letting me take her and do whatever I want and what I want is her in my shower so she can forget that clocks exist.

She startles and swats me as I hop into the bath to avoid the shards of mirror that are all over my floor. I jump us out of the far side of the tub, evading the mess and continuing towards the shower and I realize she's blushing. I cock my head at her in question, but she just shakes hers again. I can't hide my smirk, I'm sure she's remembering exactly what it was that caused it to break.

It wasn't my fault, I couldn't help it. And I don't give a fuck. It can be replaced, though I really don't want to fix it. I love knowing what happened and I'm more than happy to sacrifice seeing my reflection so I can look at a blank wall and know how good it felt to have the world explode around us. I'll never forget it and I never want to.

I set her down carefully under the shower head. She just smiles and observes me as I step in beside her, turning on the water hot enough so that soon we're swathed in steam. She's delightfully compliant, letting me wash her hair with her arms around my waist, sneaking little kisses on to my chest while I massage into her scalp.

I know we're getting close to the end, but I'm still not ready to let go. And she's still not resisting me as I clean her, just letting me take care of her in the way that I know she needs. I don't think anyone ever does this for her anymore.

There's no one at her house that watches over her and she doesn't have someone to do all the little things that when added up, mean that they love you. Instead she has to be responsible for both herself and her little brother. She's on her own and I hate that. She's too young to carry so much weight on her shoulders.

Her eyes close as I tilt her head back into the water, rinsing off the soap and watching the trails it makes as it slides down her skin. I'd carry it all for her if I could, but I can't. I know she needs that weight to make her strong, but I still can't stop myself from trying to do anything I can to help. Even if it's something as simple as washing her hair or remembering to put her bear back in her bed when it inevitably falls on the floor, that way it's with her when she wakes up alone.

That's what you do for those you love.

Hey eyes open again with a smug grin, catching me looking at her under the water. I shrug at her, not even going to try to deny how much I enjoy having her naked in front of me. How could I not? She's gorgeous and her body is insane.

But I know she sees the depth in my eyes, because she always sees past my defenses. She knows I'm not looking at her like I want her, she knows I'm looking at her like I want to keep her. Her softening smile tells me more than I need to hear. She knows that I love her and that's all that matters.

I step in closer, winding my arm around the small of her back. I take her other hand in mine and hold it over my heart, loving the feel of the band of her ring as it meets my skin. She blushes deeply as I begin to sway, guiding her to let go of fear and her ideas of right and wrong. There's no shame in wanting to dance with the woman you love, even in the shower.

I love dancing with her and I never get to do it enough. She's the ideal partner, following my lead effortlessly and responding just how I want her to at every trace of a touch. That's when I first knew how perfect we were for each other, even before I was ready to admit how I felt about her. You can tell so much in a dance and Elena and I have always fit. Now more than ever.

I'm sure she's still blushing, but I can't see her face. It's resting snugly against my chest and tucked under my chin where she feels safe and comfortable, but we're still dancing. I don't want to stop, because I know what's going to happen when I do. And I know it has to happen sometime, I'm just going to do my best to prolong it as long as I can.

She takes a shaky breath. Her mind must be following the same path as mine. It's telling her that she has to get home, she has to get ready for school. She needs to check on Jeremy and re-wash her hair with her own shampoo so that when he eventually finds her, he won't realize where she's been.

I still my steps and try to take a breath, but it's stuck in my throat.

It's time.

I tilt her face up so she's looking at me and she knows it is too. It's as plain as everything else that she tells me with her eyes.

I place a soft kiss to her lips and she trembles, overcome with the abundance of emotion that we can't describe. I leave her mouth with a smile, trying to assure her that it'll all be right in the end. We're just not quite there yet. But as soon as she decides what's right for her, I'll make sure she has it. I know she understands, her sorrowful nod tells me so.

I touch the spot under her chin and lift it another inch and she sighs and tries to smile at me, though she looks like she'd rather cry. I grin wider, letting her know that's exactly what I need her to do. I need her to be strong now, so we can try to make our way through the murky middle.

I bring her hand from my chest and lay it on my cheek, breathing deep the smell of her before placing a chaste kiss on the inside of her palm. I raise my eyebrows as I point at her, telling her without a word to stay. She smiles back for real this time and it almost hurts more than her tears. Because she's going to make me be the one to tell her she needs to leave.

Sometimes I hate having to be the strong one, but I'll do it for her if that's what she needs. I'll make the tough decisions and I'll be the bad guy as long as she knows why it is I'm doing it. At least this time I think she does, because that's what she's asking for.

She doesn't move as I reach behind her, turning off the water before I step out. I hate leaving her even if for a moment, but I need to dry her off so I can get her dressed. Those jeans are tight enough on their own and I know there's no way I'm getting them back up her legs with water slowing them down.

I wrap a towel around my hips, bringing two back for her. She holds her hand out for one and I try not to laugh. I unfold the larger of the two and drape it around her shoulders, tucking it in so her arms are snuggled and trapped inside. She smirks and shakes her head at me, but I don't care as long as she's not crying.

I unfold the second one I brought for her hair, making a show of looking at it seriously like I'm debating what to do. Her eyes pop in shock as I toss it at her, letting it land sloppily open and covering her whole head.

I pick her up in a low hug, my arms supporting her just under her bottom before I even give her a chance to try and shake it off. She's so adorable as she wiggles and squirms while I carry her back to my room, but the towel is too long and she still isn't free when I set her on my dresser.

I can't resist the urge to rile her up even more, mussing her head playfully before I finally pull the cloth away. She's glaring at me with a look that could kill anyone else, but it just makes me melt. I toss the towel once more back over her face, hoping that if I can get her annoyed enough she'll forget that she doesn't want to leave.

I step away and bend to gather her clothes from the floor, purposefully ignoring the damp towel that goes whizzing by my head. She's completely unbound herself by the time I straighten, the other one I wrapped her in now pooling at her waist. Her arms and legs are crossed in righteous indignation, but there's a smirk lurking just below the surface of the glower she's giving me.

My plan is working impeccably. She may be pretending that she's mad, but she's still not crying. I grin at her wickedly as I swagger back to her, swinging her bra around my finger with it hooked into the strap. She purses her lips with all she can, but it doesn't hide the smile she's barely able to contain.

She snatches it out of my grasp as soon as I'm near, rolling her eyes at me as she puts it on with the easy confidence of something she's done thousands of times before, though never in front of me. But she's not thinking about that, she's staring at the pile of purple lace sitting at the end of my bed, right where I left them.

She points at them impatiently, my whole chest shaking in laughter. I shake my head at her and I'm rewarded with a scowl. I don't care, those panties are mine now. I earned them.

I grab her shirt from where I set it down next to her and yank it over her head, her arms effortlessly threading themselves through the long sleeves.

So far, so good. She's halfway dressed and she's still not thinking about having to jump over my balcony, or what she knows I'm probably going to do after she does. I can't think about it yet either. I have to try and get her out of the house before I absolutely shatter.

I take her jeans and bunch up the legs so her feet slip in easily, bringing them up as far as I can to her bent knees.

I'm not looking at her eyes but I feel it as the mood suddenly shifts, her tiny and delicate hands taking their place on either side of my neck. She can't do this yet. If she sheds a single tear it'll be over and my façade will fall.

She knows what I'm doing now, how much pain I'm hiding. One soft hand moves to my cheek, making me turn to face her. I need to try to be strong for her, but I honestly don't know if I have any more left in me. It's taking everything I have to make myself seal her away.

Her eyes find mine and she sees it all, her face falling in apology for not being able to give me all she knows I want. I don't want her to feel guilty, this isn't her fault. I wasn't supposed to love her in the first place, though I'd never take it back. At least she knows that too, I told her as she held me the night we both thought would be my last.

I give her a slight shrug and weak smile, wishing I could speak to her to tell its fine. I shouldn't have ever dared to hope and she's already given me so much more than I know that I deserve. I'm so thankful for each stolen moment, every kiss she blessed me with and all the secrets we share between us. It won't ever be enough, but it's better than the nothing I should have received.

I help her off the dresser, setting her to the floor without a sound. I turn to get her shoes from where she kicked them off, leaving her to fight the rest of the way into her jeans while I flick a single salty bead of water from my eye.

I hear her zipper pull and something inside me screams.

I'm never going to make it, she needs to go.

I return to my siren, kneeling at her feet and batting away her hands so I can do it for her. She yields, letting me quietly finish her zipper and lock the button, knowing I need to exact control over the few things I can.

I slip her bare feet into her shoes, tying them each with a textbook bow. And with the simple fastening of white cotton laces, it's done.

I know I should stand and walk her to the door, but my legs feel weak and unstable and I can't let her know that. She's already hurting too and she doesn't need to know how I'm already falling apart.

I push with all the strength I can find, rising to face her. She looks like she's worried about me and I don't blame her, I'm worried about me too. But mostly I'm worried that any second Stefan is going to head to her house and find that she's gone. I snuck a glance at the clock when I went to get her shoes and it's later than I thought. We're cutting this dangerously close and every minute counts.

She doesn't have her phone with her either and I'm sure she's going to arrive to a stack of angry voicemails and a long list of texts. Then again, maybe she won't. I haven't heard him leave her a single message since he's been back. I wonder if she even noticed, but I doubt it.

I take her hand in mine and lead her to the balcony door.

We step outside into the sunlight and the part of me that was human wants to soak up the warmth but my vampire body knows the truth: it's nothing more than searing golden death. And it's here. This is the moment that's going to haunt me for as long as it takes before she decides if she ever wants to return.

I swallow thickly, wishing I knew what to do to make her understand. She is my everything. My drive, my life, my every waking thought and each step I take.

I take our clasped hands and lay them over my heart, hoping that she sees in my eyes all the words I want to say, but can't.

I don't know what she sees reflected in them, but whatever it is, it's enough to make her cry.

I bring my other hand up to her cheek, wiping away the silent tears rolling down her face. I didn't want her to cry, I hate it when she cries. It always feels like every tear is dragging a piece of my soul along with it, especially when I know that they're only there because of me.

Her right hand is still on my chest covered with mine, but her left takes my right one that's cupping her cheek, bringing it down to lay it over her heart so we match.

Her eyes are pleading for forgiveness, for patience, for understanding. They're promising she loves me even though she used to hate me, vowing that she recognizes all that she denied. She's begging me to believe that she's not running, she just needs a little more time.

I nod at her, I understand. I told her that I wasn't going to push her now and I meant it. If she did finally make a choice, it's more than possible she could change her mind the very next minute. Everything right now for her is already such a mess without bringing all this into it and I know she needs to accept her new life before she declares who she shares it with.

She huffs out a shaky breath filled with relief, her eyes closing and head falling forward under the weight of her gratitude. I pull my hands from her grasp so I can take her face in them, making her look at me one more time.

I lean down to her slowly, kissing her as tenderly as I can. Her lips are wet with tears and so are mine, but I'd rather her think they all belong to her.

Her tongue traces the place where she always touches when she wants permission and I've never denied her before, but I should now. Every second we stay is only going to make this hurt more.

But I don't. I can't.

The strain from our imposed silence and the power of things unsaid has been steadily building and with one touch of her tongue it erupts with violent intensity.

Her open mouth rages against mine and my arms crush her against me, drawing her deeper as she bends to my will. I don't want to hurt her, but I can't stop myself from holding her with all my strength. And I don't know how it's possible, but somehow she manages to hold me even tighter; her thin arms wrapped around my neck, straining to keep me locked to her as close as she can.

When I finally pull away and rest my forehead against hers, we're both completely breathless; hearts racing with the force that only seems to intensify between us.

I try to give her the most reassuring smile I can, but I know it doesn't reach my eyes.

Our bodies separate and hands leave skin and I'm instantly cold.

Our eyes are still locked as I nod my head in the direction she should have taken hours ago, but didn't.

Her breath is grave and slow, resigned to obey the command she needs to follow, though she knows I don't want her to. As I watch she brings her fingertips up to her lips, laying the last of silent kisses upon them. She presses them into my heart, taking it with her as she leaps to the ground.

I can't find the will to move as she takes one step after another, gradually further away from me.

"Damon?" Stefan's voice carries to me through the empty walls.

"What?"

"Have you heard from Elena?"

"Nope," I answer back, watching with a heavy sigh as her silhouette fades into the trees. "Not a word."

* * *

_FIN_

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**A/N: Okay guys, I know I say it often but I cannot say it enough: Thank you Thank you Thank you! Never expected anything like the support and encouragement you have all been so gracious to give. I'm so sad that this story has ended, it has been so much fun to write, and I'm so glad you all have enjoyed it as much as I have. Because we are now complete, feel free to check the follow author button so that way if any new stories come up down the line you won't miss 'em! Thanks again guys, y'all rock.**

**UPDATE: We now have a sequel! Please head on over and check out Clocks and Closed Doors, the companion to this story! Thanks to all! **

**-Goldnox**


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